


I care about you, honest, no offence

by Every_Sourwolfs_Dream



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Asthma, Avengers Family, Bucky Barnes & Sam Wilson Friendship, Canon-Typical Violence, Deaf Clint Barton, Deaf Steve Rogers, Fluff and Angst, Kidnapping, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes | Shrinkyclinks, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Scoliosis, Self-Esteem Issues, Skinny Steve, Steve Rogers Has Issues, Steve rogers & peter parker friendship, spiderman - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-05-30 16:45:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 45,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15100910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Every_Sourwolfs_Dream/pseuds/Every_Sourwolfs_Dream
Summary: A somewhat recovered Winter soldier finds a ridiculously attractive blonde in a bar and can’t seem to stop bumping into him.Steve didn't ask to be targeted by Hydra, but his quiet artist life is flipped upside down after a coincidental night out with Black Widow.Soon enough his life gets tangled up with the Winter Soldier and the past that follows him.But if Hydra thought Steve and his young friend Peter would go down without a fight, boy were they wrong.





	1. The cute blonde at the bar

Steve gave up on standing and headed for the bar, choosing a stool furthest away from the door. Scoliosis was nobodies friend, period.

 He hated being short too. Well, in part. He hated that people thought he was less capable, less of a man, he got enough of that already from ableist douchebags. But then he loved the looks of shock people gave him when he stood up for another round. _He could do this all day._

 Yet, somehow, he believed his life would be greater if he was 5ft 6 even, instead of barely scraping the 5 ft 4 mark. That somehow it would push him from being slightly-below-attractive to slightly-above-attractive. He was sure he’d never stop obsessing over it.

Steve was so in depth with his worrying, that he was completely oblivious to the stranger who slid somewhat gracefully on to the red bar stool next to him.

\------------

The small blonde was completely oblivious, thank fuck, Bucky thought.

This lonely character was gorgeous, to the point where Bucky had to take pause before approaching- that never happened after he’d gotten his trademark Buchanan swagger back in action. It only served to spur him on more as he formulated how to regain his use of words. (What are words anyway, he could speak in Russian at this point and probably still get the message across.)

He was going to be subtle in his approach, subtle he could do. _Don’t treat flirting like a mission, man. What is wrong with you,_ a voice that sounded suspiciously like Clint floated around somewhere in the back of his mind.

Bucky had just touched down on the bar stool when the bar-tender swooped on him, making him startle slightly, drawing an amused gaze from the cute blonde.

Bucky was still staring at the growing amusement on his face when an awkward cough from the bartender made him whip his head round.

“Whiskey. Double.” He barked out, glaring until the bartender scuttled away to wherever the fuck he’d apparated from (yes, he’s watched Harry Potter by now. And read them, but no one needs to know that).

In some distant part of his subconscious, even the soldier was judging him right now for fucking the last thirty seconds up so well. Right, Barnes. Regain composure, this isn’t ov-

Bucky jolted slightly at the chink of a glass against his own.

He looked at the face opposite him, strangely panicked for someone who’d initiated the contact, flushing as rouge as the bar stool. Dammit he was cute.

Oh man, Bucky thought, he must be about 20. Shit. He must think I'm ancient. (You don’t actually look 100, a voice in the back of his head whispered).

\---------

There was no way this was happening.

Steve never got approached by guys, hell, he never got approached by anyone that wasn’t a slobbering, drunk jackass. In his defence, he basically never went out unless it was for a chilled-out pub night with Peggy, but still. 

And he is gorgeous. Let-me-climb-you-like-a-tree gorgeous. All mysterious, with icy eyes but a warm smile.

And then there was Steve A bony-ass, half deaf asthmatic guy blushing like a fucking raspberry, holding a _glass of lemonade_.

He was one to drink, hell of a lot when he wanted, but he'd just mostly come in here to mope after finishing at the library late, stood up for about half an hour trying to make himself taller, when he had finally given in to being outrageously thirsty. God, he must look about 12 (Forgetting the fact that no-one could actually tell he was drinking _just_ lemonade and he had got into the bar in the first place after all.)

\----------

Bucky was amazed to see about ten different emotions pass across this guy’s face in all of thirty seconds. The man had gotten _his_ attention- so why was he having some kind of inner seizure? Bucky looked at him, ignoring a confused gaze. He just looked so nervous—

Bucky was about to rescue the poor guy by starting a conversation, leaning towards him, when he felt hand clamp down on his shoulder.

 _Can't you see we're talking?_ He wanted to stab, not that there had been any actual _talking_ happening here.

He turned on his bar stool, only to look up into the face of Rumlow. Mother Fucking-

\----------

Steve had regained the ability to breath when he saw the man's smile begin to emerge at the side of his mouth, small and smug. So, somehow by the grace of God, he hadn't immediately blown it by being Steve. He could have sworn he had seen the man begin to move forwards in welcome when suddenly a dark-haired man, backed by what Steve assumed were henchmen, appeared. They fucking had pistols in their belts.

Steve did not do well with these kinds of people. The kind of people that picked on others for no reason, and they were somehow around when Steve was itching for a fight. And Steve was always ready to dive in as someone’s defence, no matter the cost.

The beautiful man at the bar became suddenly heck-of-a lot less welcoming as he turned to the growling stranger and punched him straight in the face.

\-----------

Bucky couldn’t believe Rumlow would just emerge after all this time but wasted no time in crumpling the two oafs that came with him like paper.

"Oi!" Came a sudden shout, people the previously loud bar freezing in their tracks at the two bodies suddenly on the floor. Bucky, in the split second he turned towards the apparent bar owner, lost sight of Rumlow. He swore, shoving through swathes of panicking clubbers towards the door.

A glance back told him the seats at the bar were all empty.

\------------

Halfway home Steve started to feel rather retched. Of course unfairly-attractive man at the bar was talking to Steve to buy him time during his weird mafia shoot out. Of course he’d never actually talk to Steve.

Maybe he'd just run away from someone who needed his help (or his future husband- hah.) No. He was being ridiculous. That was a fucking gun fight. It’s not like he could’ve gotten through the crowd to the apparently assassin-level fight that was in full force.

What would he even have said to the guy if he’d have followed him anyway? Wait up! I can’t breathe but my 5ft 4 self wants to help take down scary assassin man!

Steve was about to go into full-blown flail mode, when he realised he'd just walked two doors past his own apartment.

Steve finally flopped down onto the bed in his boxers, having foregone pyjamas. What a fucking relief that was. He punched the mattress. Who cares? Steve asked. Honestly, who cares?

Me. A tiny voice in the back of his head called.


	2. Bold of you to assume

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Sam are Bros.
> 
> Sam did actually feel pretty bad for not answering the calls, but instead he said, “No offense but I could’ve sworn your words were ‘I’m never going on a mission to Costa Rica again unless it involves sex and alcohol, I’m leaving to find both.’”  
> Bucky slumped down onto one of the couches dramatically, arm slung over his eyes, “What the hell is up with the universe?”  
> “You’re only now just saying this? Mr.Ex-Hydra-Assasin?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just spent the two hours writing about the colour theory of black and white paint, so I figured I can write something more fun before my brain switches off. Also Chim’s lovely comment spurred me on.

Sam’s brief disorientation at the light’s suddenly blaring on quickly turned to self defence mode as a reasonably sober Bucky slammed open his bedroom door. A quick glance told him it wasn’t even midnight yet, so what the fuck was Barnes doing in his room?

Sam took a moment to grieve for his decision to move into the tower with Stark and some of the other Avengers.

He sat back down on the bed from where he’d sprung up into a crouch, watching a seething Winter Soldier carefully. The guy had flashbacks sometimes, they all knew it though no-one spoke about it.

“…Barnes?”

Sam would have laughed at the sudden anguish on Bucky’s face if he hadn’t stalked forward and hauled Sam up by the collar.

“Why. Do. You. Not. Have. Calls. Patched. Through. To. YoUR. ROOM?” He gritted out with increasing volume.

“Er- Beauty sleep! Do you think this glow creates itself?”

“I will fucking punch you in that smart mouth of yours.”

Bucky started pacing the room, grabbing at his hair wildly telling Sam he seriously needed to de-escalate the situation.

“Look, Dude, what’s-”

Bucky rounded on him,

“Rumlow. That’s Fucking what!” His voice tore before he stormed out into the lounge.

“Shit.”

“Yeah! Shit!”

Sam rounded the corner to watch Bucky re-emerge with his tac gear, tipping up pouches to grab at ammunition. Bucky hesitated, arm out, frozen in mid motion. Sam followed where his friend's head was twitching between. His tac gear. The clock.

Bucky took a step towards the elevator door, but Sam was there, hands up placating.

“Hold up. First of all, No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

"Yes."

“Consider this. Rum-blow pops up out of no-where, in public, brings media attention to you. You run out of here in tight-ass freakin’ skinny jeans and no-where near enough weapons and get your face blown off.”

“Bold of you to assume I need any weapons.”

“Bold of you to assume Rumlow isn’t enough of a pussy to straight up blow you and half this building up as soon as you skip out that door.”

“Fuck.” Bucky grunted.

Sam could see the Sargent rationality filtering back into his brain.

“Why is he back? Why now?”

“That’s what we need to figure out. F.R.I.D.A.Y, call the team.”

“Right Away Mr.Wilson.”

“Now you fucking use the robot.” Bucky grunted.

Sam did actually feel pretty bad for not answering the calls, but instead he said, “No offense but I could’ve sworn your words were ‘I’m never going on a mission to Costa Rica again unless it involves sex and alcohol, I’m leaving to find both.’”

Bucky slumped down onto one of the couches dramatically, arm slung over his eyes, “What the hell is up with the universe?”

“You’re only _now_ just saying this? Mr.Ex-Hydra-Assasin?”

Bucky flipped him the bird and continued, "Look, okay, I'll cut the shit. The only blasted reason I'm not drunk under a table now is because..."  
He stopped.

When Bucky had entered the bar, he was more than ready to get off his face. The mission had been shit and the intel worthless. He didn't care if he was being selfish, he was going crazy, week after week, Hydra block after Hydra block with Sam, Natasha and Clint, resisting the urge to cover himself in antifreeze just to stop his incessant fears of being caught and shoved back in cryo. If only that was the solution.

Whisky, wine, gin, vodka, Porn-Star-Martini, you name it he was having it.

Then he saw the young man at the bar.

Pale skin and blonde hair, a lilt in his hips that only a trained assassin would notice, but Bucky wondered why. Despite being clean shaven, Bucky wondered if he could grow a beard, he continually rubbed his hand over his cheek. Nervous? Was he waiting for someone?

After ten minutes of discretely watching the masterpiece, Bucky concluded he was just on edge at being on his own. Quite the opposite to Bucky, but for some reason he felt compelled to join him.

He wouldn’t admit that he found himself circled back to the bar before he’d headed to the tower, phone in hand, irrationally hoping the guy got home okay.

And now he couldn’t stop obsessing over those baby blues and slightly crooked nose. Bucky cursed his over-active imagination -"You should write stories." Wanda had said without a hint of malice when they had first met.  
Bucky had punched a wall and made his way back from the bar.

"Barnes...?" A voice called.

"Sorry. Zoned out. Wondering how it could possibly take Stark this long to get his arse down here."

Sam snorted but didn’t call Bucky out on his bullshit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Censorship laws in Europe are changing for the internet! Please sign petitions and contact your local MEP AGAINST article 13!! Fanworks could be affected.
> 
> stay lovely guys.


	3. Kintsugi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He mentally crossed the flower shop off his list of acceptable places to show his face. He seemed to be able to magically piss off blondes, or one from another life was poking him like a voodoo doll every time he tried to talk to someone of late.

Bucky jolted upright on the couch. In his mad flail to get his feet up under him he smacked his arm into something by his head. The subsequent crash that followed had him hitting the deck, breath coming fast as he shoved at whatever was tied around his ankles. A voice that he was sure wasn’t his own pounded through his head. Rumlow. He shoved his hand under the couch to grab the knife he knew Natalia, fuck was his brain upside down, Natasha kept there, just in time to hear the voice again.

“Sargent Barnes, would you like me to turn the lights up?”

Bucky balked.

“Just a little please F.R.I.D.A.Y.” He practically whispered.

He sighed, slumping his back against the couch as he took in the scene.

He’d taken his jeans off at some point, he guessed Natasha had nabbed them and put them in a wash basket- she was weird to him like that sometimes- as he was currently sitting in his underwear and the same t-shirt from his attempted night out. The blanket- probably from Sam- that had tangled round his ankles was getting soggy from the puddle on the floor. The puddle from the vase he’d hit off the coffee table. The vase that was _Pepper’s._

Bits of priceless bone china lay scattered across the floor, flowers strewn in a soggy mess.

Bucky didn’t even know what fucking flowers they were. He groaned and shuffled off to find a dustpan and mop.

 ~~

 

Bucky felt awful, heinously guilty, and rightly so.

He’d thought about super-gluing the vase back together, but it was so irreparably shattered. Maybe stark would do that kintsugi thing for it, he was rich enough.

Vetoing telling Stark upfront about the incident, and he figured Sam would just find it funny, he opted for not telling anyone at all. Even with his back-pay going from his army days he couldn’t afford a vase like that, hell he couldn’t understand it. Wanda had given him a gentle, knowing smile when she’d seen him head out this morning, figures.

He stood drumming his fingers impatiently on the florists’ front counter. He hadn’t taken Darcy’s advice of “I used to buy Jane a vibrator whenever I spilt coffee on her work. Oh the confusion on Thor’s face”. He’d followed her advice enough times now to know that trusting a modern girl with modern problems would not automatically fix the issue. But dammit if she didn’t crack Bucky up. She was one of the few people to not be freaked out when he’d started laughing again, after Hydra.

No, he’d chosen a quaint little shop with the sloping, umbrella-style front- lavender and white stripes hosting the title ‘What in Carnation?’- to at least buy Pepper some replacement flowers.

Bucky had found it a year or so back when there were countless incidences of him smashing people’s things up. Sometimes on purpose, sometimes not.

And Bucky wouldn’t deny he was a romantic. So, flower shop it was. Natasha would always chuckle that Bucky was a charmer when he occasionally didn’t despise someone. “I don’t despise people. I’m just selective with who I… befriend.” He would always reply, in what he thought was a I’m-a-scary-sniper voice.

Bucky snapped out of his trance as a pointed cough rung through his peripheral awareness. He turned slightly, trying, and failing, to look casual. An elderly woman in the queue behind him was looking rather put out. Caught in his daydreaming he didn’t realise had been unremittingly flicking into a pot of Oasis, working his jaw in frustration at his behaviour yesterday. From the outside, it appeared an act of impatience with the lovely blonde floristry assistant manning the cash register. He had a thing for blonde’s apparently.

Another cough, lofty this time, irritable. Bucky twitched.

The Cashier was clearly someone who would not take an ounce of shit, and was currently glaring at him, eyebrows raised threateningly. Not one for words in his current demeanour, he shrugged his hand out of his jeans pocket and dumped the required cash on the counter before gathering up an armful of greenery and beautifully arranged plant life and fled the scene.

He was just plain irritated now. Great.

 He’d managed to piss off a plentiful number of strangers in his time being back in his own head. When had social skills become to hard?

He mentally crossed the flower shop off his list of acceptable places to show his face. He seemed to be able to magically piss off blondes, or one from another life was poking him like a voodoo doll every time he tried to talk to someone of late.

Bucky tried to brush it off and headed to a quieter park.

He spent twenty minutes staring into a delightfully aroma emanating coffee shop, before standing up and thinking, _fuck it, it has mini Belgian buns in the window_.

Bucky allowed himself to relax his emotions, taking in the shakeup of last night in full force. He couldn’t get over the fact Rumlow was here in the city, the team doing recon, and here he was queuing up in a coffeeshop. To buy a cake. Holding a bouquet of flowers.

He remained, not angry, but disappointed, in himself. He was still in disbelief at his loss of control, the rush that it came with crushing his ability to think, after both seeing Rumlow and the nightmare he had had.

Some weight lifted off his shoulders as he realised his friends knew he wasn’t slacking off, he just…

Instead of grieving his mistakes, he sobered up- oh the irony, if only he’d been drunk- and breathed in the intoxicating scent of the bouquet between his hands. The flowers were just about to bloom in full; the metal curve of a kingfisher centred the bouquet.

Following ten minutes of trying to pick a cake he was drawn back to the mini Belgian buns in the window.

Bucky was unsurprised to find the scenic coffee shop bustling, completely packed. It was a hot day after all. He wound through the throngs of people to get a better look at the coffee specials board from the side. He was being ever-so careful of the flowers. Not that he ever wasn’t careful of anything these days. Other people, apparently, weren’t prepared to be ever-so careful.

All that he knew was Belgian buns, then, abruptly, “SHIT!”

Bucky had scorching coffee down his shirt, and half the café population looking rather affronted at his and the stranger’s choice language.

Still trying to suck in his abdomen in a vain attempt to wriggle away from the scolding liquid, Bucky felt a palm scrunching at his shirt.  
He looked down at a fluffy blonde head just as apprehensive baby blues eyes looked back up at him through the bouquet's leaves.

“Dude! I. Am. Soooo sorry!”

Bucky, for one thing, couldn’t believe how animated the culprit was.

Or, that it was the young man from the bar.

Bucky swallowed. Damn, clear those thoughts away right now mister.  
The young man continued, confusion lighting up his eyes. Oh god. He doesn’t even know how hot he is. Bucky was going down. And not in the way he wanted.

“I can’t even—I so should have been looking where I was going!” any smile was gone from the charming gentlemen as he took in Bucky’s frozen, seemly livid expression.

_Come on Buck, function you asshole._

“Uh…” the guy took a step back.

But Bucky was too concerned with controlling what was in his pants to notice. How juvenile was this? What was he, 16? The rest of the coffee shop customers had returned to selecting a beverage, disinterested almost immediately, as the problem seemingly solved itself.

“Here!”

Bucky looked down at whatever was being forced into the hand that wasn’t currently supporting a just about coffee-safe bouquet of flowers.

A Belgian bun. He could have laughed with the coincidental nature of something as simple as a cake.

“Don’t you think I deserve a coffee too?” he started to ask, even with a cheeky wink maybe, but the shorter bundle of attractiveness had disappeared into the twine of people.

Bucky heard the door click shut over the chorus of sounds throughout the cafe.

Getting through a crowd of necks craning to see the specials board, arms full with flowers and trying not to drop a bun is hell of a lot harder than it sounds. Even for the Winter Soldier. Bucky considered how comical he looked when he finally reached the door. The now closed door. He exhaled noisily as he judgingly eyed the bun and flowers, and his therefore lack of digits.

Another customer rammed open the door, with shut eyes according to Bucky’s bristling remarks.  
Great. Now he had icing _and_ coffee on his shirt. He had to get that off his shirt before he was subject to Sam and Tony’s immature ridicules.  
At least Pepper’s flowers had escaped any attacks.

The dashing young man was long gone by the time Bucky walked out and onwards, to return begrudgingly to home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kintsugi is the Japanese art of mending broken ceramics with gold, the idea that scars are beautiful and should be shown.  
> whY is suMer so h0T??
> 
> Article 13 is happening in Europe peeps! Remember to spread the word, sign petitions against it and contact your local MEP.


	4. If you need to throw up, aim for the expensive convertible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sober Steve thought, they just want the booth, time to leave. Drunk Steve said, "And you would be?"  
> He returned the strangers full-of-it, tilting smirk.  
> Steve was out of his depth and for some stupid reason decided to keep on swimming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it’s only been like a week, but I’ve done a lot of travelling and feel like I’m out of practise. So please excuse any mistakes or blips, as there may well be. Also I should be a sleep as I have yet more travelling tomorrow XD.
> 
> Idk why the formatting has gone slightly weird on this chapter.

It had been three weeks.  Steve had reluctantly given up hope of seeing tall, dark and handsome ever again. Bumping, literally, into him twice was a straight up fucking miracle. But now, it seemed that streak had come to a far too short ending.

Steve, admittedly, had consumed 3/4 of a bottle of cheap wine before even attempting to leave his apartment building. Like he said, he didn’t go out much.  Half an hour later, the rest of the wine and a couple of shots later, he was starting to sway- from music or alcohol he wasn’t entirely sure.

From where he stood at the bar he watched over the sea of people gyrating in way that no -one would in public unless drunk or high. Although, from his height he used the words ‘watched over’ lightly, more like, squinted through the crowds and seizure-inducing lights.

He was about to wave the bartender over again, because fuck this shit, when a delicate but firm hand grabbed his, he was pulled flush against a beautiful girl.  She was a bit taller than him, with tumbling brunet locks, and a reddish glint in her eyes- contacts?

Steve suddenly didn't give a shit about the last hour of moping. He suddenly didn’t give a shit about anything. Maybe that was a bad thing, but right now? It was fucking amazing.

Her hands were in his hair, reigning him in. She giggled in his ear, a sound soft contrasting to the club music pounding around them. They danced. She was making his blood pump around his head more than the drinks. Steve was lost in the strobe lighting, new colours flashing before his eyes as the crowd jumped in unison.

After about twenty minutes of close dancing, he pulled his hands away from her hips and offered her a drink. She shook her head with a polite smile. She had a soft Russian accent. She was just here to dance and have a good time. Steve grinned. Fair enough.

He managed to escape the dance floor after a few hands attempted to pull him back in. Was the world fucking possessed tonight? Steve shook his head. That's when a pair of blue flecked eyes looked him up and down, and rather slowly at that. Maybe the world wasn’t possessed. Maybe he was on a prank show.

Steve swallowed, changing direction as that suddenly seemed a real possibility to his drink-addled mind.

 

Steve didn't want to sit at the bar right now. He was served a rather large Malibu and made his way to the second floor of the club to the seating. He wound his way past the second bar (he could have got his drink up here, he realised) and weaved through the silvery-metallic booths. He wondered if they were shiny after all, or just sticky with alcohol. He found a free one nearish the back.

Steve was pleasantly surprised, that although the booths provided privacy to some extent, the party atmosphere remained. There was still a more-or-less constant flow of people walking past and the sound of laughter and club music was everywhere. Some people were even snacking on platters- Sober Steve would probably deem that a sensible idea, but Drunk Steve didn't want to right now. Instead he leaned back into the soft, yes, slightly sticky, booth.

 

He was just coming to a decision about heading back down to the dance floor, when someone slid into the seat opposite him. Startled, Steve (who had been absent minded-ly been stirring his drink with a cocktail stick in a rather melancholy looking manner) looked up through his eyelashes, fist still balled into his cheek as he leaned on the table. The stranger was outrageously hot and radiating confidence.

Sober Steve thought, they just want the booth, time to leave. Drunk Steve said, "And you would be?"

 

He returned the strangers full-of-it, tilting smirk. Steve was so a match for her cockiness.

The demi-god stranger extended her hand, "Natasha." Natasha. God, that somehow made her hotter.

Steve was out of his depth and for some stupid reason decided to keep on swimming. 

\----------

Steve barked out a laugh, covering his mouth, slightly embarrassed at the harsh noise. Natasha was just as smooth as her beautiful red hair and black body-con dress. She was smirking too, but stopped, somehow picking up on Steve’s brief fault in confidence. She delicately placed a hand on his and winked, "It's okay to live a bit you know." Steve was sure she was referring to laughter. "Anyway," Natasha continued, "I am very much of the opinion that vodka is good for the soul." She smirks again (god how was Steve going to survive this?) and took his hand, leading him downstairs.

 

To be fair to Steve, he was pretty heavy-weight for his stature, but he’d had far too much of an intoxicating mix by now and was struggling not to trip. Natasha, who seemed to pick up on everything even with alcohol pumping through her system, wound herself behind Steve, holding both his hands now, propelling him forwards. "Are you okay?" He felt the whisper brush his ear. Steve warmed at the question, there was no hint of annoyance or exasperation, only concern. Steve nodded. "Well then," Natasha twirled herself into his arms, Steve was heady with the rush, "Let's do this." \------------- Shit. Steve was passed wasted.

He didn’t even remember leaving the fucking club. And so was Natasha, by the cooing sounds emanating from her. Steve laughed, and continued to lean back against the wall, bracketing her in, even though he himself was a good few inches smaller. They continued to walk through the darkened streets. Man, it had to be late. The only other few people stumbling along were possibly more drunk than they were.

Steve supposed his movement was meant to be smooth, but he wasn’t co-ordinated enough not to stumble. Yet somehow Natasha was completely solid on her stilettoed feet and managed to spin them.  Regardless, Steve was now pushed up against a wall. In a _nice_ way for once. -------------

Steve was giddy with the rush of a kiss but sobered up considerably when he realised where they were headed. As he waited patiently for Natasha to lead him into what he had assumed to be some fancy-ass apartment building, it hit him like a brick.

This was the Stark Tower.

The mother-fucking Stark Tower.

 

Then what the fuck- who the fuck was she?

Steve had to fight the urge to punch himself in the face as he recognised the swaying hips and gorgeous red-head in front of him, because he was just. that. much. of. a. moron.

Maybe the talk, dark and handsome from the bar would see him again. When they announced the finding of his chopped-up body on the news.

The sudden Segway of his mind to rough stubble and a warm Brooklyn accent made Steve blanch.

The man from the bar, that lop-sided smirk and calculated determination were not that dissimilar from Natasha, and something struck a chord with Steve.

But the man had seemed to be sharing something private with that smile, like he didn't honour many people with it. The cafe, the tightly clinging shirt due to that coffee, Steve surely owed him a coffee and a shirt? Then that same-old train of thought appeared.

Shit. What was Natasha expecting?

Don't be an idiot Rogers. A gal doesn’t invite you back to her apartment for nothing. Nonetheless, he felt himself begin to panic.

"Steve?” Natasha had paused ahead of him, assessing.

“If you need to throw up- go for that car there." He wanted to fucking laugh as Natasha pointed at a really, _really_ , expensive convertible.

Tony Stark’s freaking convertible.

All at once, he was being guided into a huge, fancy looking lobby-way. Jesus, he knew the guy was rich, but this?

Then it hit Steve. Despite her being Black-fucking-Widow, He didn't know anything about her, not really.

And that for some reason freaked him out more than knowing she was an Avenger. He changed his mind immediately, he never did this. He had nothing against it, it just wasn't... him. He took a step back, setting alarm bells off for Bl- Natasha.

"Look, I'm really sorry, but..." he started flailing, going unbelievably red again. What he saw in Natasha's eyes was unexpected. Resignment.

"I shouldn’t have brought you here.” She sighed.

"It’s not that!” Natasha narrowed her eyes.

“Honestly! I- I didn't...know? Before, that this,” Steve flapped his hand around aimlessly between them, “isn’t what I wanted…”

Natasha looked as confused as Steve felt.

"I'll, just... go?" He didn't know why it came out as a question, but he started reversing nonetheless.

He stopped as Natasha made as though to grab him, before she realised the implications that might have in such a situation. She held his hands up instead...

"You can stay. If you want." Holy fuck, Steve was witnessing Black Widow be _bashful_ , what the fuck?

"No frisky advances on my part if a gentleman like you declines." With a wink, the Natasha he met in the club had returned, relaxing them both instantly.

Steve looked at his watch, 3:45 flashed back at him.

"If you're sure?"

"Steve. It’s almost 4am. This is New York we’re talking about. This place has too many rooms, and Stark is the furthest from someone who would give a fuck."

Steve linked arms with Natasha, feeling that anymore would be awkward, any less may be even worse, "Well then. This room better have a king-size". ------------- From the grandeur of the building and the legendary tales of Stark, Steve shouldn't have been surprised at the sheer insane-ness of the building. It was like being in a sci-fi movie, and Steve’s fingers were itching to draw it.

Natasha led him to one of the upper floors,

“The Avengers floor, common room,” she gestured around vaguely “Rooms for guests of the Avengers are here too.”

Steve raised a curious eyebrow.

"We all have our own floors, those of us in permanent residence. This is where the rabble congregate." Natasha said it with such distain on her face that Steve had to laugh, "Not fond then?"

She sighed, "I don't mind really, it's just that Stark can be obnoxious sometimes, so I leave them to it. Don’t tell anyone I have a soft spot, I have the skills to kill you and you know it."

Natasha winked, but Steve subconsciously wouldn't impend on that. Then he remembered that Natasha was a literal spy, and her "flat mates" would never know he was even here.

"Water?" Natasha was suddenly over by the kitchen counter. Clearly, this wasn't how he was used to things going, but she was Black Widow. She adapted.

"I can do it if you would like?" Natasha blinked in what could have been surprise, he hoped that didn't seem to foward. She grinned, "Sure. I'll go make sure one of the room’s is vaguely presentable."

Only when Steve had discovered the glasses cupboard the words sank in. Room? Presentable? Was Natasha expecting a change of heart on his part?

 

As if to answer, she came out of a door around the corner, across the large open plan living room.

"Look, um..." Steve managed when Natasha reached for the glasses of water. "It's not that I don't do... er I... I just don't--" Natasha put a hand on his arm.

"Steve. You don't have to explain anything. And, I actually had a really great time regardless." Her smile, genuine, made Steve feel over the moon.

Natasha pointed across to where she had just emerged. "The door on the end. It’s got an en-suite. You can just have a shower tomorrow, it's late. If you need anything, ask J.A.R.V.I.S.”

With that she kissed him on the cheek and turned, leaving Steve slightly creeped out that the A.I. could hear everything. That’s what he’d read on the internet anyway. \------------------

Clint grunted. "Nat? What the fuck are you doing in my bed?" "I wasn’t expecting to be alone tonight. Now shut up." Natasha snapped. Clint hummed in slight confusion, "Just move over you great lump."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's so hot. I'm melting. Have an imaginary ice lolly.


	5. Better than Craigslist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone had left one of those bending stick men for stress on the desk. There was one of those little chalk boards with a pen dangling from it that read 'Bucky smells like 1940's swamp water'. Steve didn't know what a Bucky was but he found it amusing anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this on my phone so please excuse any weird formatting etc. I'll have a look when I have access to my laptop XD.

Steve panicked, floundering in the unknown bed sheets before last night’s events, or lack thereof, came flooding back to him. 

Shit. 

He flopped his head back down onto the outrageously soft white pillow. 

This was without a doubt the best bed Steve had ever slept in. Not that he'd ever had much luck with mattresses. The one he had back at his apartment squeaked with the slight inch of movement, he liked to tell himself that's we he never took anyone back there. What else can you expect from a bed off Craigslist he supposed, at least it had been clean.

The whole room had that warm white luxurious, hotel-like feel, but little bits of character in the rest of the room prevented it from seeming sterile and hospitalised.  
Like the vibrant, quirky paintings on the wall, that as an art student Steve could tell someone had spent a lot of time and money picking those, not those generic hotel print-out frames.  
Someone had left one of those bending stick men for stress on the desk. There was one of those little chalk boards with a pen dangling from it that read 'Bucky smells like 1940's swamp water'. Steve didn't know what a Bucky was but he found it amusing anyway.

He just lay there, taking in the fact that the Avengers actually had lives. Not that he didn't think they were people before, but not in the kind of way that's leaving a blue soft toy rabbit on the armchair in a guest room, or scribbling stupid notes for each other. He wondered who had stayed in the room before him.

 

Steve frowned at the sudden clunking noises, before realising it was the sound of a coffee machine clunking back into place, ricocheting around the main room that had woken him. The scent wafted in. Natasha must be busying around. 

Steve sighed, he wished… he didn’t know what; for more places to hang out than his studio or Peggy and Sharon's?

He knew being an artist would be a struggle, a down right trial, but he didn’t anticipate it to be so... lonely.  
Of course he wasn’t expecting instantaneous life-long-friends to be falling from the sky as soon as  
he stepped out the door, but he seemed to be far too fiery for anyone to deal with. More than that, people were assholes, and didn't like it when someone actually pointed it out to them.

Needless to say, Steve got his nose broken a lot.

His small flat and studio, had become his place of solace, full of paperbacks and sketchbooks, where he could forget about how shitty the world was sometimes.  
He did go out- it wasn’t that- always taking a sketchbook with him, he loved exploring and going to marches and various protest sit-ins, but sometimes he felt as though his head would explode with frustration.

There was always Peggy of course, but with her new job heading a non-profit organisation for lgbtq+ youth, she was high in demand- either out of the city in normal-people-day-time, or out of the country altogether.  
And Sharon, Steve won't lie he liked Peggy's cousin, but he didn't have the faintest fucking clue what she did for a job. She just disppeared and popped back up where you least expected. Maybe she was a spy or something equally ridiculous.

Steve exasperated himself sometimes. What was it he wanted, some  
kind of city dream? He reclined in the unfailingly squishy paper-white duvet.

Peggy had said he should work on verbal communictaion, but he was far too expressive for that, without even meaning to, it was as if expression and emotion leaked from his every pore, like his soul asked to fight the good fight even if he didn't.

Tall, dark and handsome seemed pretty stoic in the coffee shop incident… he shook his head, congratulations Steve for bringing back that horrendous memory.

Someone's (Natasha's?) melodic laugh brought him out of his daze.  
Right, shower.  
\-----------  
Bloody hell, Steve could wrap himself up in the indulgent, fluffy towels and stay in his  
newly formed cocoon forever. They actually covered him head to toe.  
Yeah Steve struggled along, but it's not like he lived in the 30's or anything, nor was he lacking in domestic items, this was just Stark for Christ sake. Why wouldn't he splash out on the little things? 

 

Coming back into the bedroom he took a quick glance at the clock, shit, 10.30 already? Is there some kind of time rule to one night stands? Would that even apply considering all he did was sleep in a  
separate room? He came to the conclusion that it was probably best to leave anyway.

Pinching some of the anti-perspirant on  
the bedside table, he pulled on yesterday's boxers and clothes.  
He hadn't formulated what to say yet, but, as Peggy regularly informed him, Steve was pretty good at muddling his way through a speech.  
He picked up his jacket and made his way through the door.  
\---------------  
Bucky couldn't be happier to be back at the tower, surrounded by all the others, even Tony- Christ. Their success in finding anything on Rumlow, or the Hydra unit he'd set up, was sub-zero. He let out a little amused smile at Clint's latest antics with shooting stuff he definitely shouldn't.  
Although he was bloody unbelievably glad the mission got him out of those god-awful lectures that Banner kept inviting him too. The guy was so earnest- so he couldn't say no really could he.

Nat, the sneaky shit, had  
got there first and compiled "evidence" out of thin air that Bucky was simply dying to go on these extended outings. No wonder the woman's a world class assassin. 

Bucky raised an eyebrow in confusion at the latter, at the clicking sound that radiated from down the hall. At the same time Tony perked up from where his nose was in his coffee.  
His alarm was not, however, soothed when the gorgeous blonde, still trying  
to fluff up his dampened hair, froze on the other side of the common room.

The young man from the bar. The one who had had his hands scrunching up his, now deceased, shirt in a vain attempt to save it from coffee stains.  
He stood staring at the newly-appeared gentleman, who, much more openly, gawped back at Bucky. 

But most importantly, he stood, in the mother fucking, Stark, Tower. 

Exiting a bedroom. Elicting no surprise from Natasha, not even a flick of the eyes.

"Know each other?" Tony quipped, awakening at the possibility of drama (Bucky took it back, he was not happy to see Tony.)  
"Please don't tell me you're cousins or something?" Stark's grin  
quickly slid off his face when both assassins snapped to look at him with absolute death.

 

"Would, you, like to. Introduce, us?" Bucky gritted out.  
Natasha, as cool as anything on the surface, squirmed internally. 

Steve, for the hunderth time since meeting these people, blushed like a middle-schooler. He stood in disbelief, partly because of the intensity with which these two people were glaring at each other, but mostly because... it was tall, dark and handsome.  
The fine-looking one from the bar.  
The one simultaneously radiating annoyance and hotness at the site of the coffee incident.  
One of the obsurd reasons he didn't sleep with Natasha.

"Uh." Smooth Steve. Where are you speech qualities now?  
"I'll be... going now?"

"No." "Yes."  
Natasha and the man from the bar barked at once, turning to look at each other in rage across the kitchen island.

"Why the hell not James? He's my house guest. Where have your usual acts of solemn silences gone?"

Ah, so James was his name.

Steve couldn't believe how much coldness Natasha managed to compound  
into that last sentence.

"Thank you for having me, um..." Steve felt his eye phsically twitch as made eye contact with a smirking Tony Stark.

"Don't mention it kiddo, it's not like I knew you were here."  
Steve didn't know whether to be insulted at that, he felt like he should be. Natasha certainly was,

"I don't sleep with children, Stark."  
Steve would be terrified of being at the receiving end of her snark, but a small part of him was doing a jig at the fact that Black Widow of all people was defending him.

Steve conscience was  
threatening to jump off a cliff when all parties in the room stopped to look at him  
(Stark and, was that Hawkeye!? Amused). 

"Anyway--" he swallowed, and felt a thousand times more awkward when all pairs of eyes  
flickered to his adams apple."--I will be going now."  
He nodded in thanks.

There was a moment where everyone simply shuffled in the height of social ineptitude. Great.  
And Steve resisted necking it to the elevator.  
\----------------  
Only after Steve was gone did Banner, yet to speak, and Tony back up to move to the otherside of the sofa. Clint just continued swinging his legs from where he sat on the kitchen counter.

Bucky looked beyond pissed. Like, Winter Soldier pissed.

A peacekeeper wasn't normally needed between the two, even Tony looked concerned for once.

Both were seething, hands were curled into fists. 

Tony spoke, "Couldn't have been more awkward with that then." 

"No one wants your opinion, Stark." Bucky growled, annoyed at the idea of a spectator. 

Silence.  
Natasha spoke, knowing how to piss him off.  
"So, how do you know Steven?" 

Bucky lunged at Natasha across the kitchen island. Bruce sighed, slumping onto the sofa to ignore the fray, flicking on  
the absurdly big flat screen, and let the battle commence. 

 

Ten minutes later Bruce looked behind the sofa to observe a bloody-nosed Natasha, sitting on top of a rather battered Bucky- both panting as heavily as the other. 

Tony made a boxing bell noise as Clint hollered from the kitchen,  
"Now you're done children, can we actually have some form of breakfast?" He let out a chuckle at the glare he received from both participants.  
\----------------- 

"Look," Natasha snipped after a vast amount of pancakes and stilted silence "You can't never speak to me again." 

"I could if I wanted. Add to the tally" A rather indignant reply came, Bucky reddening at his increasingly juvenile behaviour. 

He exhaled at the inquisitive, but kind look he received from Bruce.  
"It was him." Bucky stated. Why did he say that? They don't even fucking know what he means by that.

The others exchanged a glances. 

Of course Stark had sarcasm loaded and ready, "sorry to break it to  
you popsicle, but we know alot of guys". 

Bucky went past red into purple with his own embarrassment at his lack of usual stoicism. Where was the Soldier when he needed him.

Natasha swallowed, and Bucky could pin-point the exact moment she figured it out.  
Which also happened to be the exact moment Wanda walked into the room.

"Oh, Bucky," she pulled a sympathetic look.

"What?" He snapped, feeling guilty when she reddened,

"Sorry," she replied, "I've only just woken up, and you're both thinking SO loudly."  
She paused, looking at Nat with something he couldn't discern.

 

Natasha dropped her fork onto her plate in exasperation, to the dismay of Bruce who got oil splattered on his shirt. 

"Fuck. You didn't actually ask me. Or tell me it was him. The guy you've so obviously been daydreaming about. If you'd have told me I wouldn't have dragged it out." 

Bucky frowned, pissed that he still had no fucking clue what Natasha meant.  
"what?"

Natasha looked guilty, a rarity, and pursed her lips.  
"We never slept together. That was the original idea, but before we even got in he mumbled something about another guy, and how he 'never did this' so he couldn't. But he was so out of it I said he could stay, seeing as you guys wouldn't care- or so I  
thought." 

Natasha finished, everyone else awkwardly returning to their business. "So," Stark started, "Not to state the obvious, but did we just witness two world-class assassins get into a hissy fit fight over a boy?" He slapped the table in glee at Natasha's glare. "Classic." He laughed before shoving off from the table. But Bucky could only focus on one thing.  
'Another guy'.  
_Steve_ had another guy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been sitting in a car for so long my butt is numb.
> 
> Just to clarify, I'm not trying to make Nat seen like an asshole. She's not, she actually didn't realise Steve was the guy bucky had been low-key pining about. She wouldn't have almost hooked up with him otherwise. I secretly just wanted to get a little romarogers in there, so sue me XD  
> Romarogers and Stony are like my side hoes to stucky XD


	6. Lost Groceries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve cringed, ignoring the glowers he received as he wriggled underneath the now vice-like grip on his shoulder. He stopped immediately at the cold, hard barrel of a gun being pressed firmly into the base of his spine.  
> “I’m Saw, pleasure to meet you.” The man, Saw, seemingly changed his mind about the alley way and started leading them back down the sidewalk, the other man following in silence.  
> Steve fought the sudden urge to laugh, “Saw, as in, I saw the new Barbie movie? You’re sore? Or as in, I bought a new saw to build a fence on my farm? Please don’t tell me it was because of the Saw movies.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *whines continually because I was going to be productive today *  
> Kudos has gone up by like 10, eyyyy.  
> apologies for any mistakes, being ill makes me very sleepy. I’d like to thank fic writing and ur comments for motivating me on in times like these where I have the energy for nothing.

 “He had blonde hair and blue eyes.”

His bland attempt at a disinterested description given to Sam and Nat before the whole fiasco the previous day played on repeat in Bucky’s head.

“Avid description there Barnes. You have my heart bleeding.” Nat had said.

Bucky wanted to stab himself in the eye with the blade currently sitting in his sock. He scowled at the guy behind the bodega counter who was repeatedly trying to get his attention. He may have mumbled something along the lines of, I’m the fucking Winter Soldier, I an hold up the queue if I want.

~~

Steve shoved the paint brushes back on the tea trolley in frustration, having had enough of staring at the same canvas over and over. He wasn’t even sure where he was going with it. Or if it even conveyed remotely what he wanted.

He stood up and made his way across his open plan apartment to the sink to wash off the paint that had crept up his arms. Drying his hands on a towel he was no painfully aware of the lack of quality, the crunchy texture from being washed too many times, the tea and paint stains.

Steve let out a deep sigh for what felt like the one hundredth time that day, feeling far too tired for the late morning. He found himself wondering yet again how the situation had gone so incredibly sideways. He wasn’t even sure if it was he who’d fucked up this time.

Sure, he and Natasha most likely would have simply parted ways, never to have seen each other again. She was an Avenger for Christ sake, she probably didn’t have a lot of free time (like that was the only reason, his head snarked.)

But they might, only might, have become friends. Steve couldn’t help but feel they’d fit together like puzzle pieces, with even a similar sense of humour.

Steve’s shoulders sagged, unable to fathom why he was _so_ occupied with this. He had friends… well, one or two anyway. And he just couldn’t dispose of the image of ‘James’. He wanted to go back to the Stark Tower, and it wasn’t just because of the fucking fluffy towels. Right. Like he could just waltz in.

He shook his head, this is some twilight-level weird shit Rogers. Get over it. He was determined to. Resolute. Right there and then, to forget about this guy. There was something about the man that drew him in- clearly Steve just needed to get outside more.

~~

“Bucky man, this is some 1984 over watching you’ve got going on here.” Sam spoke, gesturing at the laptop Bucky was currently hunched over.

Bucky frowned, “Yes, I was a brain washed assassin in the 80’s, if that’s what you are convolutedly referring to.”

“Nah. As in the book? Orwell? Big Brother is watching you? Never mind.”

Bucky gave a non-committal grunt as a response. He closed the open browser tab on _S.Rogers.Art._ Sam was right, as usual, time to cut the creepy shit and get back to finding Rumlow and his Hydra recruits.

“Damn. ’49.”

“What?” Bucky turned to Sam who was looking at his phone,

“’1984’. The book was published in 1949.”

“I’m not going to read it.”

~~

Almost two months had passed, and Steve had virtually forgotten about tall, dark and handsome. He’d even gotten past astounding Peggy with his tales of nearly having a night with Black Widow of all people- Peggy had thanked him for not stealing her imaginary wife.

He was currently walking back from the grocery store- which he had far too little to spend it due to lack of recent commissions of job opportunities. He was debating on trying to get his part-time job back at the all-hours café a few blocks over. He’d get to walk home at 4am again. Yay.

Steve was so engrossed in his brooding that on turning the street corner he was abruptly halted as his down-tilted head smashed into a rock-solid chest.

Steve gulped as he looked up into two sets razor-sharp eyes lit with ire.   The two huge walls of muscle looked as though they were ready to destroy Steve’s face with their bare teeth.

But part of Steve’s brain, the part that had no rationality, instantly internally yelled “Fucking square up mate!”

Instead he went with, “Was that an accident, because there’s like, a _whole_ pavement for you to walk your giant arses across.”

Steve couldn’t vaguely hear a voice that sounded like Peggy in his head screaming “WHERE IS YOUR SENSE OF SELF PRESERVATION YOU IDIOT.” Although he definitely felt the panic steadily climbing as the guy he’d walked into stepped further into his personal space. Steve wasn’t quite sure how that was possible.

Steve jerked as a huge hand clamped onto his shoulder. He looked down at the arm out of reflex, breath hitching as he saw what looked suspiciously like a gang symbol there. A freaky looking thing, a skull with tentacles emerging from it. He exhaled harshly, meeting the blonde’s gaze once more, who was giving a really shitty attempt at a smile- it was definitely not warm, Steve noted. But he gave a steely look back. He could take these fucking guys. He hoped.

“Natasha’s friend, right?” The man’s voice was as hostile as expected. Steve nodded- why the hell was he nodding!? They weren't friends, they were barely acquaintances! He was completely thrown by the turn of events. The mention of Black Widow sending ice through his veins. Suddenly Steve knew that this wasn’t just two chumps picking on someone for the fun of it.

“Well,” the man acted sincere, but Steve could see right through to the snide underneath, “We were thinking,” he paused to shove Steve forcefully backwards into the mouth of an alley way. Steve knew going in there and coming out wasn’t an option. He tried slowly side stepping.

“Nuh uh uh,” the guy wagged his finger condescendingly in Steve’s face, backing him up even further. Steve had to resist the urge to just straight up punch him in the face.

 “We think you might have some information to share with us, unfortunately, well unfortunately for you anyway.”

“I think you should move out of my way.” Steve was proud his voice remained steady.

The men both laughed, “Calm down. Wouldn’t want to ruin that pretty face of yours.”

 Steve cringed, ignoring the glowers he received as wriggled underneath the now vice-like grip on his shoulder. He stopped immediately at the cold, hard barrel of a gun being pressed firmly into the base of his spine.

“Why don’t you introduce yourself?” The man snarled into Steve’s neck.

“Charlie,” Steve stated, “I would shake your hand but, I don’t really care for whatever you have to say for yourself.”

The man ignored him, and Steve tried not to hyperventilate himself into an asthma attack.

“I’m Saw, pleasure to meet you.” The man, Saw, seemingly changed his mind about the alley way and started leading them back down the sidewalk, the other man following in silence.

Steve fought the sudden urge to laugh, “Saw, as in, I saw the new Barbie movie? You’re sore? Or as in, I bought a new saw to build a fence on my farm? Please don’t tell me it was because of the Saw movies.”

The man didn’t seem to get any angrier and that fucking terrified Steve.

"Tell you what," the overly touchy-feely Saw slung an arm around Steve and trundled them along, "Let's discuss this over coffee, shall we?"

There was no room for argument. What the ever-loving fuck was happening, is all Steve could think.

Clearly this wasn’t going to be a fun coffee meet-cute. Steve felt like he was being carted half way back across the city, and subsequently farther and farther away from his own cramped little niche of an apartment.

Saw and his wingman were obviously avoiding mainstream coffee franchises, less witnesses, easier to clear up a mess, Steve supposed.

Steve tried to not draw any attention to them, not wanting the few people in this greasy, old diner to end up as more collateral damage. Saw snapped his fingers at the seemingly most nervous waitress and ordered two coffee's and some pancakes, "sharpish". It occurred to Steve he had no idea how much time had passed since he left the grocery store. It’s not like anyone would be wondering where he was anyway.

He was sitting opposite Saw now, wedged into the booth by Thing Two. Maybe Steve could somehow get to his phone in his front pocket, but he froze as he received a shrewd rap on the knuckles.

Did this asshole of a man actually just do that? Of course he did. Steve stared hard into his eyes. Not so much as a flinch. Saw jack-ass pursed his lips, "I wouldn’t want to be wasting my valuable time here." "I think you'll find you dragged me here of your own accord.” Steve grit out.

The man was about to reply when the mousey waitress returned. "Your order sir!" The poor girl squeaked in return before retreating.

 

"Look," Saw's fake sincerity was slathered back onto his face, "Natasha, is not all that savoury." Steve raised an eyebrow as Saw continued. He leaned in.

Steve assumed the move was meant to be for dramatic impact but realised with what was the biggest in cringe in his life, the man was sucking suggestively on the rolled-up pancake. Steve didn’t know whether to outright laugh at someone who was that much of a moron, or tell him it would be attractive to no one, ever, in the slightest and that he hoped he choked on it and died.

It was a pancake for crying out loud.

"Natalia… has committed many a crime." Saw continued nonchalantly. Steve swallowed, guessing he was referring to one of Natasha’s many aliases. He hoped Black Widow committed a double murder after this. "You name it," another spectacular dramatic pause "She’s done it."

Steve hesitated, and Saw made his point.

"She’ll do anything with the right motivation."

Ah. So that’s what this is about. They think _Steve_ is the right motivation.

Steve started to panic fully now, letting a nervous laugh slip.

"Now, we don’t want to hurt you,"

“That’s a bold-faced lie.”

Saw tilted his head in consideration, a Cheshire cat grin falling away to reveal a core of fixation,

“I think it’s about time you finished your drink, Steven.”

Well, Fuck.

~~

Bucky decided to walk off his frustration.

They’d managed to capture one of Rumlow’s men, right here in the city, the first real lead they’d had in two months. But the guy had fucking bitten into some kind of pill before shouting Hail Hydra and kamikazed on their ass. He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets as far as he could without punching through the other side. Always. Every time. Every. Fucking. Chance. Every split second of hope he allowed himself to hold since... Hydra, went to shit. How juvenile, he was letting himself beaten before he’d even got a shot at Rumlow. Bucky berated himself. This wasn't like him; to become so utterly unfocused. The further he got from the Soldier, the shittier he seemed at letting people get in the way of the mission. ‘People’ being your friends, asshole, he thought, surprised at himself. Friends who needed to sleep more than he did. Friends who had actual lives other than the mission. Fuck. He needed to stop referring to his general everything as the mission. He was backtracking on his progress, or whatever Sam called it.

My God. It was too early for him to even try at functioning. He needed a coffee.

He didn't even care how grubby this old café looked, he’d had a lot worse, he needed the comforting caffeine.

~~

Think tactically Steve, come on, he gave himself a pep-talk, think of a plan.

Steve stood up from their table.

As if in anticipation, a massive hand shot out to clasp Steve's narrower-than-average wrist and pulled down hard. "You listen to me--"

Steve had had enough. He needed to get these men away from other people for a start. He shoved his face as close to Saw's as he dared and drove  his words like a stake. "No. How about you listen to me. Get your gross hands off of me and I’ll come with you to execute your evil fucking mastermind plan." With that he stood up and made his way out of the door into the late morning air, the two men unexpectedly simply walked either side of him on the sidewalk.

So, he shouldn’t have been surprised when Saw stepped back sharply, allowing Thing Two to bodily bump Steve sideways and onto the floor of a back alley they were passing.

Ah. So they had opted for the alley option after all.

What he also didn't expect as an alternative to a fresh intake of oxygen in that breath, was to be jaggedly yanked back up by his collar, momentarily cutting off his air supply as it dug into his windpipe.

Surprisingly, Steve succeeded in ramming his knee up between the man’s legs. Grabbing the lid of the bin that stood next to him, he swung it up with all the force he could manage, hitting him in the face.

Steve only had a split second to celebrate the fact he’d just taken down a guy four times the size of him, before hearing

“You jumped up little shit!” And being sucker-punched in the face.

\-----------------------

Reaching for door handle-- Bucky froze.

Was that… Steve? No no no no no no no no no. That could not be Steve. That could not be Steve currently being flanked by two humans (at least he assumed they were humans) bigger than Bucky.

He could read body language pretty fucking well, and those weren’t Steve’s friends.

Bucky realised he had been stuck relentlessly in exactly the same position for at thirty seconds when an awkward cough came from a gangly gandalf of a man trying to get through the doorway.

Bucky didn't get coffee. He turned. He walked across to the other side of the street and started tailing.

~~

Bucky appeared in the mouth of the alleyway in spectacular timing to witness Steve knee Mr. Muscle in the balls and somehow slam a bin lid into his face, only to be rewarded for his seriously impressive efforts by getting smashed straight in the face.

~~ 

Bucky tried to think of the few times he’d slammed anyone in the face with this much effort might in his life, as he took the sight of the unconscious Hydra goons sprawled on the pavement. He was by Steve in two strides.

*** 

The crack spread throughout Steve's face with a shuddering intensity, the crunch of bone and cartilage ricocheting down his jaw and through his skull. The ground hurt less than Saw's outstrike.  


Confusion reigned as sound came flooding back in to Steve’s good ear. Steve realised the attacks had stopped after the knuckles collided with the bridge of his nose in a sickening grind.

Why had they stopped? He wondered as his head span, because something wasn’t right but he couldn’t focus enough.

Someone stood over him. He just wanted to go home. Aw man, he’d lost his fucking groceries somewhere along the line. He was going to be living off coffee granules.

Somewhere above him came a chuckle, and something echoed about groceries.

And then James was in his face. Tall, Dark and Handsome from the bar.

“I don’t know about that,” he chuckled, “How about we sit you up?”

God, he could sit Steve up anytime.

“Wow, that really was a punch. You took down a fucking Hydra agent.”

What was Hydra? This guy was so pretty, where did he come from? Why is he blushing? Were those guys still here?

Bucky coughed awkwardly, “I’ve got someone coming to clear this up. And find your groceries. Hopefully you didn’t have any ice-cream or anything.”

"Will Natasha be there?" Steve couldn't believe he just asked that outright, he sounded like a whiny child. But his head was pounding, and blood was trickling into his mouth, so he lost the ability to care when James took hold of his bicep to steady him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnndddd we’re done for this chap! This took so long to write, I basically scrapped most of the original. Da DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHhhhh.


	7. In the Name of Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “…the Winter Soldier, I… Are they after him?” James seemed to stutter as Steve continued, “I mean, isn’t he an Avenger now? I’ve seen it on the T.V.- not saying that’s always a good info point, but, shouldn’t he be here?”
> 
> Steve was met with silence and a strangled looking James.  
> “Steve,” He whirled around to face Natasha at the sound of his name, “You don’t- Do you know who Bucky- James is?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya guys,  
> Welcome to my stress writing session XD I have a very important hospital appointment tomorrow ahhhhh, help me! Don’t worry about the fic updates though, I’m fine and they should continue as normal, touch wood.  
> p.s. this has a lot of dialogue, so I hope it’s written okay.

Bucky was trying to contain his anger, mind running a mile a minute. It’d been months, so why were Hydra targeting Steve of all people now? He didn’t even know if this was linked to Rumlow or something else entirely. Which was just fucking ridiculous that none of them had any handle on the situation.

Instead he tuned back in to the situation at hand. Steve was utterly pliable in Bucky’s hands, which, given they were essentially strangers, was not a good sign. His complete lack of awareness was making Bucky increasingly concerned the frontal punch had led to some form of concussion. Bucky couldn’t help the slight tinge of pride when he pictured Steve swinging the bin lid.

Bucky was surprised that at Steve’s muttering for Natasha all he felt was a strange warmth that someone could see past Nat’s icy exterior so easily. Easily was the wrong word, it wasn’t easy unless she wanted it to be… Forgivingly. That was the word. Clearly Steve had immediate faith in Nat. Nat trusted Steve. So, Bucky trusted Steve.

He just had to hope Steve trusted him back.

Steve that was currently slumped against his side as they made their way along the crowded streets of the city. They were doing quite well, until they reached the next block. He felt Steve jolt where he’d had most of his weight on Bucky’s chest.

“Shit!” Steve let out with a jagged gasp. He swung his head up too violently, causing him to sway and stagger back, he would have fallen had Bucky not been there. He tried not too feel too bad about the panic he saw in Steve’s eyes.

“Hey,” Bucky said gently, he placed a palm on Steve’s heaving chest where his breathing was becoming far too ragged,

“You with me buddy?” As slowly as he could, not wanting the little guy to instantly topple over, he realised Steve’s shoulders. Steve snivelled and consequently looked absolutely mortified with himself.

You can’t just scoop people up and carry them home, Banner’s voice rang through his head.

\--

“Shit.” Steve whispered again. Clutching his sluggishly bleeding nose, he looked up at James,

“I ‘ake it from the ‘ay you s’hlushed him in the ‘ace you’re not remo’ley friends?” He joked before spitting a glob of blood onto the pavement.

“U’uh, gross. ‘ry it ‘eing your face.” Steve growled at a passer-by who looked at him with varying degrees of disgust and pity. So, help him, he could fight someone new at this rate.

James must have picked up on that, chuckling to himself, and decided it was acceptable to place an arm around Steve’s shoulders.

“Is tha’ to ‘rotect me. Or ‘top a fight?” Steve managed to get out.

James snorted again, “Ignore ‘em.” Man, his Brooklyn lilt was endearing.

Steve watched in confusion as James suddenly began to flounder, what was he…? Wait. Was he literally stressing out because he’d ‘told’ Steve what to do? Steve took a second to remind himself this guy had just been in a pretty un-even fight too and was probably not used to dealing with that, un-like Steve. He was probably shaken up too.

Steve wasn’t far off the mark, and was becoming attuned to Bucky’s way of thinking a lot quicker than the rest of humanity.

He tugged at the cuff of James’ sleeve, the one not cradling his shoulders, he gazed up at James; “Stop. Panicking. Breathe.”

\--

Bucky realised his vision had become measurably tunnelled, his head tilted dangerously, stilting towards Steve’s face.

That beautiful, stubborn face.

He pulled away abruptly, causing them both to sway precariously.

Steve let out a laugh, the holiest thing Bucky had heard all day, “I thought you were supposed to be holding me up? Not the other way around.”

“Right.” Bucky coughed, it was his turn to flush immeasurably. “Yes. Well, um…” Classy, once again, the soldier snarked in his head.

“Just so you know,” It was back to Steve blushing again. Fuck, he was cute.

Don’t reason with yourself Soldat. Steve soldiered onwards, “I don’t know who those men were. And they were after …”

Bucky sensed his hesitation. Steve didn’t trust him fully yet.

“…Natasha.” He settled on.

Bucky felt his eyebrows do a weird wiggle; caught between raising his eyebrows that Steve didn’t choose to say Black Widow and frowning at the sudden development.

Steve came back into focus, through his blurry thinking, chewing his bottom lip as he frowned up at Bucky. “I’m still alright to come to yours then?”

Bucky heard a cheeky ‘you owe it to me’ in the tone, but clearly Steve didn’t want to be too presumptuous. Bucky actually grinned for once.

****** 

“WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO HIM!?” Tony swept up Steve protectively away from Bucky as soon as the elevator doors opened on the common room floor.

“You can’t just scoop people up and carry them away, Tony!” Banner exclaimed, his choice of words causing Bucky’s brain to glitch slightly.

But the coincidence was swept away from Bucky’s thoughts as he took in the expression of absolute bewilderment on Steve’s face as Stark pecked at him like a mother hen.

“Stop swinging him round. I think he has concussion.” Bucky said gruffly, back to his winter-soldier exterior now he was faced with the overwhelming-ness of everybody in his space.

He jumped as Sam suddenly hissed in his ear, “What happened to _not_ stalking him?”

“I. _Wasn’t.”_ Bucky grit out, watching as Nat swatted Tony away from a slightly swaying Steve.

“Uh, Nat?” Steve muttered, rather put out as her hands ghosted all over his face, pulling at his eyelids and tilting his chin back.

“Shh!” the endearingly harsh reply left Steve at a loss for words as he was guided towards a plush sofa.

“Now, now Lady of Spiders, don’t hurt the child!” Thor boomed. Where the fuck did he even come from?

An awkward pause settled over the room. Steve only flicked his narrowed eyes to Bucky in annoyance, abiding by Natasha’s threats. How was this Bucky’s fault!? He frowned back at Steve.

 

“Jesus. He’s not a kid, Point Break. He’s just small.” Bucky was glad when Steve’s murder eyes moved to Tony, who gulped and muttered something about Steve rivalling the Winter Soldier.

 

“How old are you anyway?” Clint piped up (Of course he would), “20? 21?”

“25.” Steve grunted.

Nat raised her eyebrow and winked at Bucky.

Bucky scowled even more, putting the stutter in his pulse down to rage. Nothing more.

 “…For the love of God James! Tissues!?”

Bucky realised he’d missed out on a chunk of conversation when Nat snapped her fingers expectantly. A room full of eyes on him, a mixture of knowing and humorous, and some baby-blues looking thoroughly confused.

****** Bruce sighed, “Cracked, not broken. Looks like you just need an ice pack and securing tape.” “I didn’t think you were that kind of Doctor?” Steve decided it was safe enough to speak up now Nat and Bruce were finished inspecting him.

“Lots of practise.” Bruce smiled softly, “After enough broken noses on the team, you tend to pick up on how to fix them. Big and Green is usually a last resort on missions, so I may as well do something useful with my time.” He chuckled, but Steve didn’t miss the sad head-shake from Tony. Bucky came over to put his hand on Steve’s shoulder.

Bucky was about to ask if Steve was okay when he caught his eye and smiled softly.

He was okay.

If he’d learnt anything about Steve so far was that it took a hell of a lot to take him down.

 Bucky sighed to himself. Besides, someone else was probably waiting at home in a cosy flat ready to comfort Steve as much as he needed.

So, not that Bucky was one to judge, but why would someone as seemingly faithful as Steve even be out with a stranger like Nat in the first place then? (No discredit to Nat, the absolute Goddess). Maybe Steve was in love with someone then. Wanting someone. That was worse. A whole lot worse.

Steve shifted awkwardly under Bucky’s steely gaze.

“So!” They all jumped as Tony clapped his hands, “To reiterate my opening question: What the fuck did you do to him?”

Bucky glared at Stark. When was he not glaring at Stark.

Sam, as ever, tried to alleviate some awkward tension when neither Steve or Bucky offered up an answer, “Did anyone actually manage to get lunch in amongst all this mess?”

Clint’s stomach gave a timely rumble.

“No,” Steve mumbled looking at the floor, suddenly sour, “Only a shitty black coffee I’m surprised wasn’t poisoned. Nor was I going to snack on See-Saw or whatever the fuck he was hinting at.”

Bucky snapped his head towards him in shock, the others looking lost between them. Bucky surged to his feet.

“Son of a bitch.” he growled.

Natasha simply looked at Steve with mounting concern.

 Steve took in their reactions, opting to ignore everyone else’s slowly dawning understanding “No! No, nothing actually happened, he just… kept insisting I was too handsome, whatever that means. And went for unnecessary amounts of touching alongside threatening me with a gun. Which makes _no_ sense. I didn’t... I don’t even know, it was weird more than anything. Almost laughable.”

 

“Can I have a little more context please?” Nat addressed Steve steadily. Bucky still wasn’t used to hearing her like that.

 

“Some guys, they uh…” Steve flicked his startling eyes back to Bucky, tired and asking for help but not wanting to ask it out loud.

“Hydra.” Bucky started. He was surprised the whole room didn’t get whiplash as everybody turned to him.

“Two agents, one by the name of Saw-” he paused at Sam’s eyeroll, “- I know. Fuckin’ idiot. Came after Steve, threatened him at gunpoint for information on Black Widow.”

Natasha looked a hundred more times interested now.

Tony and Bucky exchanged glances.

Steve didn’t know what Hydra were, but if the Avengers did, that wasn’t a good sign.

Sam now gained the centre of attention with his pissed groan and string of swear words,

“Hence the broken nose. So lemme guess, guess Romeo here swoops in and takes ‘em out- who is dealing with that by the way?”

“Carter.” Bucky answered, “And no. Steve took down one of them and I took the other.”

“More like demolished his face.” Steve muttered sullenly.

Bucky paused to look at him, but he was staring at his shoes.

Tony clapped Steve on the back. He blushed.

Bucky bet that spread a lot further than his face.

Cut it out Barnes.

Sam barked out a laugh, “Fuckin’ yes my man!”

 

There was a moment of silence before Bucky spoke again. His voice cold, disconnected, "What did they say to you Steve?" He placed every word carefully.

The silence resumed, much more intense this time. Steve felt like he was being, not judged per-say, but everything had suddenly become cautious. What should he say? It’s not like they really told him anything.

'Speak you're mind, Steven, but take care of the tone in every situation.' Something his mother had told him.

"He said," Steve swallowed, unsure where to look, before settling on Natasha. "You were..." Steve’s temperature started to raise, his pulse fluttering.

Bucky crouched from where he stood next to where Steve sat, obviously in an attempted to seem less intimidating. Thor smiled, "Speak your mind, you didn't put the thoughts in their monkey brains." So Steve let it all rush out in one go.

“They thought I was friends with Natasha.” She didn’t flinch at the wording, “Said that I had information they wanted. Tried to be all intimidating,” Bucky smiled at that, only Steve wouldn’t find Hydra agents intimidating, “He brought the gun out then and ‘suggested’ we go to a coffee shop. There wasn’t much else really. He just said that Nat had done all… kinds of things. I managed to get them away from people, and I’m guessing that’s when you started tailing.”

Bucky nodded.

Steve was surprised Tony was the one to speak next.

“Did they call Nat Natasha? Or were they saying Black Widow.”

“Natasha.” Steve swallowed, making eye contact with her, “They knew my name too. Even though I told them it was Charlie.”

He heard James and Sam swear simultaneously under their breath. He was picking up on everyone’s names now even though he knew who falcon was. It made him wonder, who _was_ James to all these people? An agent?

Everyone seemed to take a collective breath. Natasha seemed rather unaffected. "Well." Tony simply stated. "If it is Rum-blow he’s certainly upped the ante."

"Rum…blow?" Steve tilted his head in query.

Clint laughed despite the tense moment. Sam patted Bucky’s shoulder and the latter curled his fists in anger.

"As astounding as it is small yet powerful Midgardian, the slimy fellows who attacked you are part of an authoritarian organisation who birthed the Winter Soldier."

“I didn’t know you could use such big words, Thor.” Tony snorted.

“Please don’t say ‘birthed’ again.” Clint muttered.

“With all due respect,” Sam gained everyone’s attention, “Should we be telling him this?” He nodded at Steve.

“He’s sitting right there, Sam.” Nat scoffed.

“Yeah, well we haven’t exactly been cautious-”

“-Just because you didn’t have a valiant moment with Stevie her--”

“—Still managing to cling onto some of your decorum and tactfulness there, Stark—”

“-Shut up Grumpy cat-”

“-offered me the aforementioned things-"

“-seful input there, Big and Gree-“

Steve frowned even harder than he was already over the sudden clamour of arguing; “What does this have to do with the Winter Soldier?”

The room went silent.

Steve swallowed as all eyes fixed on him, before slowly sliding to where James now stood.

“What?” Was all he said, it came out rough and a little strangled.

“…the Winter Soldier, I… Are they after him?” James seemed to stutter as Steve continued, “I mean, isn’t he an Avenger now? I’ve seen it on the T.V.- not saying that’s always a good info point, but, shouldn’t he be here?”

Steve was met with silence and a strangled looking James. What did he do to fuck up now?

“Steve,” He whirled around to face Natasha at the sound of his name, “You don’t- Do you know who Bucky- James is?”

Steve swung his head back to James, head getting a little dizzy now his injuries were catching up with him,

“He’s… I don’t get what you’re asking?”

Nat couldn’t help but feel bad for the bewildered blonde looking up at him, bandage on his nose slightly bloody,

“Sweetie,” She cupped his jaw, “James is- Bucky is the Winter Soldier.”

Bucky growled at Natasha and Steve slowly rotated in his seat to face him, lips parted slightly in shock. They held eye contact for a moment, Steve’s wide and round, Bucky’s open and wary.

The moment was broken by Tony,

“No offence buddy, but, how did you not…know?”

“I- ju- he-” Steve spluttered about an octave higher than his normal voice.

Shit. Steve felt the panic rise. Fuck. Was he freaking out? Yes. And the only one doing so by the looks of it. How did he not know? Well, the Winter Soldier wore a mask and goggles to start with. He wore gloves. All. The. Time. He’d only appeared with the Avengers like two years ago. Steve knew it was to do with a terrorist organisa- oh god. The brainwashing shit! All the brainwashing shit that had been on the news. The legal battle that it wasn’t his fault. But in the clearing of his name he’d never once done a televised interview like the others! Never took his mask off in public! Never spoke! So-

“How the fuck was I meant to know!” He exploded, he turned and flapped at Jam- Bucky, “You- You fuckin’ never take the mask off- how- When the fuck was I meant to magically figure this out?”

Bucky shrugged, eyes void of emotion,

“That’s it!?” Steve rounded on him, no idea why he should be so irrationally annoyed at this. But he’d fucking bled all over the guy. He’d been in the Avengers tower, with _all_ the Avengers – except, except that red sparkly girl, Steve realised- and he, how did Steve not wonder why Bucky was there? He supposed the hair could have been a clue, but-

"Steve." Came a sharp call. His eyes flickered back from wherever he'd been in his indignantly rage filled head. Natasha was crouched in front of him again, cupping his face, but it wasn't her who'd called for him. Bucky- the Winter fucking Soldier- loomed over them, as if to protect them.

"Listen," Sam slid off a kitchen bar stool to join them on the sofa. "No-one's going to lay a finger on you. We won't let them." Steve's heart did a jig at that last statement.

“You think he’s scared?” Tony’s voice made Bucky jump, “Maybe only fellow shorties can recognise it then.” He shrugged, “He’s not scared. He’s pissed.”

Everyone looked at Steve.

He swallowed awkwardly in their awe.

The Wint- Bucky smiled at him hopefully, but Steve could see the worry there.

“I’m sorry, it’s not exactly… first conversation material,”

“Or second. Or third.” Steve cut in, raising his eyebrow. Bucky blushed,

“Still, it would give us all a piece of mind if you stayed the night."

 Tony nodded confirmation with Bucky’s statement.

"This is real isn't it. I mean, shit.”

"Impressive, Right? Movie-like--" Natasha dug into Tony’s ribs.

Bucky smirked, "so do you want to get anything from your apartment?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Stevie. What a dope.  
> I haven't proof read this yet btw, so, sorry for any weird mistakes or formatting.  
> :-)))))))


	8. The only Boy in Brooklyn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘Don’t be so pitiful. Stop panicking. Wipe him.’ It was Pierce’s voice scolding this time, and it was a rusty knife scraping against his skull, turning his brain into an uncooperative mush.  
> He heard their footsteps on the stairs behind him.  
> Swallow.  
> Breathe in.  
> Breathe out.  
> In.  
> Out.  
> Steve would be fine. Just like they said. Like Bucky himself said. FUCK. Fuck. FUCK.
> 
> He straightened his back, laying a typical smirk on his lips in James Barnes style.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been writing this like allllll day

Steve was surprised his inhaler had survived the morning at all, if you ignored the slight crack in the casing. He took a couple of pumps to steady himself whilst frowning into the bathroom mirror, holding it in for as long as he could- which surprise, surprise wasn’t long enough- before relaxing when the Ventolin hit the bottom of his crapped-out lungs. No need for the whole of the Avengers, Winter solider included he thought bitterly, to see. Although the spies of the lot could probably hear his lungs creaking or some shit. Steve’s head was pounding pretty heavily, making his left ear ring. He didn’t think about his poor hearing in that ear as much as you’d think. It wasn’t bad enough for a hearing aid and he’d adjusted enough by now that he only really struggled in loud places. Or when he took a punch to the head, something that occurred way to often. Or not enough according to his irrationality. You could call it a flaw, but Steve liked to think of it as brazen.

Right. Don’t think about Hydra. Don’t think about the Avengers. Don’t think about the Winter Soldier. You’ve been in weirder situations than this Rogers, just don’t try to think of an example.

 ~~

They’d just finished arguing about who should go with Steve when the man himself emerged from the corridor leading to the bathroom. Bucky was going to leave out any unnecessary details that might freak Steve ou-

“So!” Stark clapped his hands, “I argued we should all go, establishing early everyone is nosy enough to want the first look of your MTV crib. BUT, Bionic penguin over here made a valid point that if Hydra will notice anything it’s us trapesing through Manhattan. Not a good place to get publicly sniped-”

Sam cut in before Steve’s eyes could get any narrower. Jesus. Why was Bucky the target of all this guy’s glares?

“Cutting to the chase, Clint and I- and Barnes over here- are gonna go with you. No need for the whole freaky security detail Stark wanted. Although, it’s best you and Nat don’t head out together any time soon… sorry man.”

Bucky watched as Steve’s eyes flickered to Nat, then to Clint, and lastly settled on Bucky.

Everyone paused.

“I’ll let you know when hear anything more from Agent Carter or Wanda.” Nat spoke, “And for God sake take a car this time. Don’t make a concussed Steve walk half way across the City.”

 

They'd headed through shadier part of Brooklyn, Bucky couldn't help but realise. Then again, anywhere was shabbier than the Stark Tower. Bucky wasn’t that closed off by his life of luxury, he had lived in 30’s Brooklyn after all. Yet, Steve’s place was only marginally safer-looking than where Bucky had sprung up from. He anticipated Hydra on every street corner, or at least a mugger. Being back out in the rougher suburbs did wonders for cunning nostalgia.

They circled the block a few times to check they didn’t have a tail. Bucky had silently volunteered to go with Steve whilst Sam and Clint found sufficient parking and scoped the outside of building once more. He placed a steadying hand on Steve's shoulder as he stumbled slightly up the steps to the Brownstone, sounding slightly out of breath and rolling his shoulders. Steve flushed a delightful rosy colour- Bucky needed to stop spontaneously grabbing the guy, what the fuck was wrong with him and his ability to abide by basic social concepts of personal space?

The building itself was nice, others like it in different areas slowly being bought up by rich, white politicians trying to make their new, mini Upper East Side and failing. Now, however, two of the ground floor windows were boarded up, the wooden frame of the already replaced glass door beginning to split from decades of weathering. Nevertheless, the upper floors remained intact, and the miniature balconies (ignoring the rust) added that extra bit of grandeur.

Clearly Steve rented, a very small percentage of this building. Hopefully the part that still looked marginally functional, for Steve’s sake.  Sam had reignited a slither of Bucky’s appreciation for living like an actual human being, back when he was first brought in- being on the run after Hydra brainwashing you for seventy fucking years leads you to not give a shit about the complete functionality of a building, or the functionality of self for that matter. A roof is a roof.

Bucky found Steve frowning when he reached the top of the wide, open steps, zoning back in from wherever he’d wandered off to. The source of his worry was the frustrated and somewhat embarrassed groan emanating from Steve. The blonde whirlwind sighed.

"It can be temperamental." He shrugged, gesturing to the key card in his hand.

Bucky desperately wanted Steve to know he didn't care about flaking walls or dodgy key cards, so like the idiot he was he didn’t say anything.

Steve scoffed at the awkward silence, "Ignore the continuously fucking neighbours and thin walls, the leaky taps and mildew." His gaze became heated, and a little sad. Oh.

Bucky was socially functioning enough, or it was the assassin in him, that he realised there was something Steve wanted to say, so he nudged his shoulder.

"That bad, eh?"

Steve grimaced. Then exhaled, leaning against the wall where the door still hadn’t opened.

"It’s… it was my ma’s place.” Bucky noted the change in tense, but didn’t interrupt,

“I wouldn't have minded the costs of keeping it, if only the place wasn't fucking falling in on itself. The landlord is pretty much pushing me to move out or for me to die, whichever comes first. The offers on the place keep getting higher, but I wouldn’t sell it for anything. The memories… you know? It’s the closest I can get to her."

Bucky tipped his head back to take in the building, mind replaying Becca’s laughter that time she nearly fell out of their bedroom window for trying to pass a book to the kid next door. Their mother had been furious before shoving a pile of books into their arms and sending them to the boys front door.

Bucky told Steve as much. He barked out a laugh, a little tension easing from his shoulders, but remained down-slanted.

"What's stressing you out, Stevie?"

Steve stuttered to reply. For a second Bucky thought he had over stepped, before he saw a quiet delight in those baby-blues at the spontaneous nickname.

He paused for thought.

"It's... stupid really. It's just that my apartment is… shitty compared to... others.” AKA Tony Stark, Bucky thought as Steve continued, “Oh man. It's not even that really. I know you’ll read me like a book with the higglty-pigglty contents of it. Or you guys think I'm gross because of the mould..." There was something else, so Bucky waited.

"OR, that Hydra will completely and utterly trash what is essentially my art studio and therefore everything I need to survive!” He finally blurted out angrily.

Bucky suddenly felt so fucking angry that this shit was happening to Steve of all people. He was so tough he could power through anything- but he couldn’t. Not really, not Hydra. No one made it out unscathed. Steve had been fighting his own battles for a long time now, but he shouldn’t have to.

"Hydra,” he stepped closer to Steve protectively, "won't get anywhere near you, or your art. And if anything happens, I will personally set the whole organisation on fire. Then make Rumlow shit out the remains.”

Steve stared up at him wide eyes full of fire, telling Bucky he wanted in. He could worry about that later.

"Besides," Bucky continued, "Pretty sure it’s impossible to gross me out at this point in my life, buddy. I virtually _let_ mould grow on me when I was on the run.”

Steve snorted so Bucky counted that as a win.

“And I wanna see this amazing art of yours.”

“I never said it was amazing.” Steve grumbled, as the front door finally bleeped open.

But to Bucky’s smug pleasure, Steve tried, and failed, to swallow a bashful smile.

 

The relaxed laughter of Clint reached their ears. Sam grinned, catching the door before they were left behind. Bucky’s gaze flicked up, Steve didn’t look away and Bucky couldn’t place his expression. It made the soldier suddenly flare awake, uneasy, suspicious. Bucky was the one to break the eye contact, Steve visibly knocked as Bucky’s expression shuttered.

Clint exchanged a glance with Sam, who gave a worried sigh as Bucky marched up the stairwell, opting out of conversation.

Just when Sam thought he couldn’t hate Hydra anymore. His usually chill demeanour flipped internally whenever he caught glimpses of the soldier. One second it was the warm, crinkled eyes of Bucky, the next it was the cold, calculated gaze of the Soldier. Sam wondered whether the media name the Winter Soldier bothered him. He never mentioned it.

Bucky had told Sam once, it was like a sudden icy inhale of air that pushed him to the back of his mind. He was there, but numb, trying to grab at the puppet strings of his body. That in some distant part of his mind he knew it was him, just with all the emotions switched off, and he didn’t have the key to turn them back on again.

‘Looks like it's up to us then’ Or at least Sam guessed that was what Clint was trying to convey with his weird eyebrow wiggle.

“Nice place.” Clint offered. Sam wanted to smack him over the head.

Steve’s look turned rancid. “Yeah. A shitty building for a struggling artist, classic.” All three of them shuffled awkwardly on the scuffed stairwell before a uncomfortable look reached Steve’s eyes when he realised he’d been nothing but cynical since his guests arrived. Wow. He mentally applauded himself. This is why you don’t invite people over.

Sam, however, seemed to instantly radar this anxiety, his cheeky grin breaking the tension, slinging an arm over Steve’s shoulders.

“We gents are very much looking forward to seeing your humble abode.”

He began to guide Steve up the stairs, assuming Steve would call him out if a change in direction was needed- with Clint following like an overwhelmed puppy.

After walking up one more surprisingly intact- staircase, finding Bucky leaning against the door nonchalantly like he hadn’t just bolted, Steve pulled out a bundle of keyrings and set about unlocking the door. It swung inwards into a kitchen diner, the sitting room furniture crammed into the same space. Beyond that opened out into Steve’s modest studio, in what Bucky assumed had originally been the sitting room. A door off to the left, and a door off to the right. Bathroom check. Bedroom check. The curtains were half drawn over huge windows and books overflowed everywhere.

“Um…” Steve clucked his tongue, “Sorry for the mess.”

It wasn’t messy at all really, besides the strewn books, messy tv cables and the occasionally discarded hoodie. Fucking small, fluffy hoodie’s that probably smelt like Steve. Bucky’s subconscious supplied.

Stop. Brain shut the fuck up.

“Take a seat guys. I won’t be a minute.” Steve scratched the back of his head, ruffling his hair.

I could do that for you. SHUT THE FUCK UP BUCKY.

“Awesome nest you’ve got here.” Clint seemed genuinely delighted, brightening Steve’s mood.

“Thanks! Tea? Coffee? Um… out of date orange juice?” Steve scrunched up his nose.

It was adorable Bucky concluded.

“Coffee please. And, nice…place.” Steve seemed surprised that Bucky had decided to speak but couldn’t help but feel slightly pissed off by his hesitancy.

Sam and Clint cursed inwardly.

Bucky seemed to comprehend his utter idiocy as soon as the words left his mouth. Even Clint and Sam had never seen him dither so much, turning red, as he did now. He clawed to find words at Steve’s wounded frown.

“I squatted in an apartment with rats in Bucharest!” He blurted out.

And consequently, opened and closed his mouth several times, seemly trying to suck the words back in, the colour rising from his neck, full-blown into his face. What the absolute fuck Barnes? It was like the ghost of his 40’s self all dolled up in uniform and the Soldat were simultaneously standing over him telling him to just give up now and join them in the afterlife.

Steve smirked with combined bemusement and softness. Sam and Clint shared a glance that said ‘Oh bloody hell, here we go.’

Bucky gave an anxious smile, (Bucky? Shy? The world was broken), before dumbly coughing out, “Yeah.”

HELP ME. He telepathically screeched at Sam.

“Water sounds good.” Sam smirked. Fuck you Wilson.

“Tea please. No sugar, I’m sweet enough already.” Clint chimed in.

“Yes.” Steve was surprised with how easily he returned the banter, “That’s how your teeth are so white and gleaming I suppose.”

“I’m much sweeter than these two, ya gotta admit.” He winked in reply.

Steve rolled his eyes, scooping up yesterday morning’s cereal bowl in a last-ditch attempt to make the place seem cleaner, and made his way to the sink as Sam let out an indignant “Oi!”.

Once he’d made drinks Steve made to gather his things. He watched as Clint swung his feet up onto Sam’s lap. He couldn’t help but think how naturally they fit in here already. “Right.” He put his hands on his hips. “Any packing volunteers?”

Bucky looked like he wanted to climb into his coffee cup when Sam and Clint turned their evil, condemning gazes on him.

“Bucky. It’s cool. I was joking.” Steve laughed awkwardly. He turned and entered his room on the left, unintentionally leaving the door open just a crack.

He was just as surprised as the others when he heard the door click shut behind him.

Bucky stood, trying not to regret his decision, he was a Barnes. They both swallowed.

Bucky frowned, Steve thought it was hilarious how offhand he was trying to act.

“Need a hand pal?”

Steve nodded a little too enthusiastically. Bucky seemed to struggle again with something for a moment.

“I’m sorry for seeming off or… rude today. I’m normally a lot more…”

“A lot more what?” Steve pushed.

Steve inhaled sharply as Bucky took a stride towards him, Steve’s legs already backed up against the bed in the small en-suite room, and… reached past him. To pull Steve’s sports holdall across the matress.

“I think it’s best if you pack for a few days.” He stared far too intently into the bottom of the bag. “If you would like that is.” Bucky flicked his intense gaze up to Steve.

“Sure thing, pal.” Steve mimicked, trying not to sound as desperately pleased as he felt.

Bucky un-scrunched and expertly packed whatever clothes Steve chucked at him, laughing at Steve’s Spiderman boxers.

“Shut up!” Steve fired back. “Gotta support local vigilantes not just the big leagues.”

Bucky looked smug, “I do believe you are mistaken.”

“Oh yeah?” Steve turned to face him, crossing his arms in challenge.

“The Winter Soldier. I hear he’s totally underrated.” he gestured to himself with a flourish.

“Oh? I wouldn’t have pegged you as a superhero narcissist.”

Bucky outright laughed, “How can you— I literally just packed underpants for you!”

Steve held his hands up, “Calm your tail feathers,” He strolled over the wicker wash basket in the corner and pulled out Iron Man p.j. bottoms with a flourish.

“I thought you said you weren’t in with the big leagues? Can’t stick to one team. Hang your head in shame!” Bucky laughed. Actually, properly laughed as Steve’s bottom lip stuck out in the most extreme pout he’d even seen and reached out to pat him on the head.

(Little did he know Sam and Clint had sat up in surprise at the sound of Bucky’s full-blown laughter as it rang through the thin walls. “Let’s hope they don’t start shagging—Ow!” Sam smacked Clint over the head. “What! The walls are thin enou—Ouch! Stop hitting me!")

 

Bucky slid through the door, trying, and tremendously failing, to hide his grin. Swiftly Steve followed, bag slung over his shoulder.

“Right Then!” Clint clapped his hands. “Looks like we’re off then."

Bucky nodded as Sam opened the door, finally dragging his gaze away from Steve. The guy remained far too absorbed in whatever was stuck to his hoodie to notice Bucky’s unbelievably extended staring.

‘The Soldat does not get attached.” Zola rang through his head out of nowhere. ‘Come on baby, you know he’s taken.’  Someone else’s voice he didn’t recognise another twist in the gut, so Bucky strode at top speed down the three stair cases to have a moment to collect himself. He needed more than a moment, Christ.

‘This is getting ridiculous.’ Finally, his own voice was back. Bucky held his ground, fighting the urge to run away, as he propped himself up against the exit door.

Why was this even happening? He couldn’t hold himself together, and it just served to make him angrier. He wasn’t even functional enough to be a normal, social person to the guy he had a fucking crush on. ‘Don’t be so pitiful. Stop panicking. Wipe him.’ It was Pierce’s voice scolding this time, and it was a rusty knife scraping against his skull, turning his brain into an uncooperative mush.

He heard their footsteps on the stairs behind him. Swallow. Breathe in. Breathe out. In. Out. Steve would be fine. Just like they said. Like Bucky himself said. FUCK. Fuck. FUCK.

 

He straightened his back, laying a smirk on his lips in typical James Barnes style.

But before he could turn to face whoever it was, Bucky felt a gentle hold on his elbow. A look down revealed Steve quietly holding his arm in support. Calm bloomed in Bucky’s chest, and with Steve’s touch it magnified.

“Buck?” He asked in hushed tones, with more consideration than Bucky would have thought possible settling on his face. He didn’t get a chance to comment on the nickname.

Steve pulled away a moment before the others reached them, keeping Bucky’s cover for him, he realised.

 

Clint was on the phone.

“Hahaha!” Clint gave a hearty chuckle to the receiver. “Why not, why not?” he laughed again, “Sure. I’ll let the others know. See you back at the tower.”

As he ended the call and replaced his phone in his pocket, it occurred to Steve they were still waiting on an update from Nat.

“So the other guy talked.” Bucky raised an incredulous eyebrow.

“Good news is that Wanda got all of the info out of him that he had on Rumlow, turns out he’s had to hire extra lackies outside of Hydra and pair them up with agents, and they aren’t so willing to scream hail and cyanide down the hatchet.”

“The bad news?” Sam countered.

“Is that _because_ he wasn’t Hydra he knows next to nothing. Rumlow’s not an idiot. They met at a neutral location. Rum-blow wasn’t even there.”

Bucky growled in exasperation, tipping his head to the ceiling.

“We should check it out ASAP anyway man.” Sam conceded.

Clint shook his head, “Nat and Tony are on it. Right now, we have more important business.” He tilted his head in time with his lop-sided grin at Steve.

Bucky felt a rising panic in that moment he didn’t quite understand. Then he groaned inwardly. He understood. Steve at no point had said he needed to call anyone. And clearly no-one was looking for him. Therefore, the ‘other guy’ he mentioned to Nat was someone Steve was pining after. Meaning on the one hand Bucky had a shot, the Soldat scoffed at that, but on the other… Steve was a pretty passionate guy, how hard might it be for him to let go of something like that?

His internal monologue was interrupted.

“What do you fancy for dinner then Steve?” Clint asked as he buzzed and held open the door.

“Erm… I have no idea.” Steve’s eyes slid to Bucky’s, questioning about more than dinner.

Bucky looked sheepish as he passed Steve and out the door for a quick scout of their surroundings.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you are all doing well and shout out to all of you who comment, it means a lot and keeps me writing, flexing those brain and finger muscles and whatnot.


	9. Lip Reading, Head Buzz

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve’s got concussion but something else is up, there’s an awkward chat, Nat and Steve have a heart to heart, there’s a cute dinner and a tipsy poker game, Hydra is back.
> 
> "It’s fine. I’m fine.” Steve declared.
> 
> Bucky snorted, “Yeah. Sure.”
> 
> “And what’s that supposed to mean!?”
> 
> “Look. Just don’t – you hit your head real hard Stevie and you know, you couldn’t hear? Might that be a clue that somethings up?”
> 
> Steve simultaneously blushed and glowered at the nickname he was sure he’d never get used to, and the fact that Bucky was calling him out on his bullshit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aha, I forgot I even started to write this chapter already! Typing incredibly slowly with an ice-cream in one hand. I did not think this through.  
> A massive fucking spider crawled out from behind my pillow whilst writing this, I am mildly traumatised.  
> Also enjoy my crappy way of explaining poker.

For some reason the lurching feeling of the Stark Tower elevator brought Steve’s headache up a notch. His loose grip on the hand rail turning white-knuckle as his hearing completely blipped out into grey fuzz. He tried to swallow his dread but the sudden cut-off from the conversation threw him. This hadn’t happened since he was a kid.

Bucky eyed him suspiciously, but just as he opened his mouth to speak the elevator opened onto the common room.

Steve rubbed his hand across his face, it occurred to him that he still had tape across his nose.

“Ah. Ah… No.” Steve blinked as Bucky swatted his hand away from picking the tape off.

Was this guy a bloody mind reader?

Steve stopped at the sight of Bruce and… the girl he’d danced with that night at the bar?

She stood and approached Steve wearily, he wasn’t even bothering to hide the fact his head was pounding at this point. Concentrate on the words she’s saying, come on Rogers, he said to himself fixing his gaze on her lips.

“I’m Wanda.” Steve guessed. That would make sense. So, this was… Scarlet Witch. Of course it was. Slow on the uptake round three, Rogers.

“I’m Steve, I believe I had the delight of dancing with you before?” he mumbled, disorientated by not being able to hear his own voice.

Damn it. Why did he say something so open ended when he can’t even keep track of the conversation?

She laughed at the comment and the other’s confused looks. She turned, gesturing to Steve and, damn, he completely missed what she said as she turned back to him expectantly.

The pause in the room grew awkward as Steve just stood and stared.

She smiled softly and repeated it.

Repeated what Steve would never know because he couldn’t work out through all the squinting and trying to remain upright.

Steve didn’t expect Clint of all people to approach him, and gently take him by the elbow so they made eye contact.

“Steve…” he said clearly, not overly patronising, but practised, “Are you, lip reading?” And damn if Clint didn’t look as confused as everyone else. Steve’s tongue had evidently bailed in this ridiculously embarrassing situation.

Clint paused before signing something to Steve. Bucky frowned, concerned, eyes flitting all over Steve’s face. Clint signed again.

“I don’t know sign language.” Steve said dumbly.

But he didn’t say he wasn’t lip reading, Bucky thought.

Why wouldn’t Steve tell them if he was deaf? Or at least partially other wise the rest of the day hadn’t made any sense. But those thoughts went out the window when he saw Steve swaying, if minutely, on the spot and guided him to one of the huge sofas.

Steve blinked as suddenly Bucky was kneeling in front of him, cupping his face gently to get his attention. He didn’t realise Tony had emerged from somewhere behind him, and he didn’t hear Bucky’s snarked reply to whatever Tony’d said as he sharply pulled his hand away.

Steve’s head was swimming, he blinked, and Bucky was gone again. Next thing he knew Nat was there and gently tipping him over on the sofa and pushing his feet up. Was there a blanket there?

~~

“It’s probably just the concussion Bucky, maybe you should calm down.”

Bucky felt bad even as he whirled around in his pacing to snap at Bruce, “ _Just_ the concussion. Concussion he got because of me.”

He balked as Natasha’s hand suddenly appeared to click in his face.

“What the fuck are you talking about James? It was me they were after.”

“And if _I’d_ reached Steve sooner, it wouldn’t have happened at all.”

Wanda, Bruce, Sam, and even Tony, let out a collective sigh.

“Whilst I’m completely up for another Spider vs. Ghost match,” Tony added, “What are we going to do about the hearing damaged, concussed sprite currently on my sofa?”

Everyone paused to glance down at Steve.

Bruce sighed, “Wake him up every four hours, try and get him to drink some water and just wait and see.”

Great. Bucky thought. Just great.

~~

Steve groaned as someone gently prodded his side. A distinctly bruised side.

Where the hell was he?

He realised he should probably be more concerned about that as a prod in the side turned into a gentle shake of the shoulder. He pealed his eyes open.

“Bucky?” He gasped slightly confused, “Wha… What? Hey, no…” 

Bucky was frowing, and he frowned even harder when Steve traced the little groove between his furrowed eyebrows. He didn’t mean to make it worse, but he didn’t want Bucky to be sad.

~~

Steve jerked awake and sat up far too suddenly.

“Woah, hey there pal, take it easy.”

Bucky was there. He’d been there before, right?

Wait-

“You okay Bud?” Bucky was there, sitting on the floor in the now deserted common room, pausing where he’d picked up a bottle of water.

“I… can hear you.” Steve simply stated. Sure, it was all fuzzy and muffled, but he could still make out the words. Bucky smiled small and soft, something like relief flashing in his eyes.

“Are you okay?” He asked again.

“Yeah, I think, just…” Steve looked around at the darkened windows, “What time is it?”

“Almost 8pm. You got pretty dizzy back there, when we got in I mean. We woke you up once- concussion, Banner told us too.”

Steve groaned. Of course. Half the Avengers had been there.

“Damn. Good thing I don’t have a Nine to Five job then.”

Bucky chuckled, then asked hesitantly,

“Do you… Remember waking up? Or coming in in the first place?”

“Erm, got a little blurry after the elevator. No. I don’t remember waking up.”

Bucky frowned and pursed his lips minutely, debating on something.

Or rather how he should broach the subject with Steve.

“Do you want to go and see Bruce now or sleep a bit more first?”

“What?” Steve asked sharply.

“I just- _We_ just think that something else might be going on, you know,” Bucky tapped his left ear. He wasn’t wearing a glove, Steve realised, hand glinting in the low light under his long-sleeved top.

“It’s fine. I’m fine.” Steve declared.

Bucky snorted, “Yeah. Sure.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean!?”

“Look. Just don’t – you hit your head real hard Stevie and you know, you couldn’t hear? Might that be a clue that somethings up?”

Steve simultaneously blushed and glowered at the nickname he was sure he’d never get used to, and the fact that Bucky was calling him out on his bullshit.

Steve sighed. Trying to count to ten like a shoddy college therapist had told him once.

“I know. It’s just… This is really hard for me to say okay? I’m a proud man,” he tried to joke, “But I can’t really afford it.”

He cringed as Bucky physically jerked in surprise.

“Steve- What? We’re not asking you to pay for that. Bruce’s technically not even a real doctor. I mean, Tony wants to call someone in but I figured we should ask you fir-”

Bucky was rambling.

 “I know that,” Steve lied, “I just mean…”

Bucky watched as he cringed again.

“I mean, I can’t afford what comes after.” Steve finished resolutely. Like he was facing a fucking firing squad. Bucky wanted to punch whoever made Steve feel like he couldn’t talk about this stuff.

“I’m not sure I follow.” Bucky said carefully.

“I’m kind of deaf in one ear?” Steve phrased it like a question.

“Uh-huh.” Bucky narrowed his eyes and Steve groaned and tipped his head back in defeat. (Soldat, please erase that image from my brain lest it become the screensaver of my mind anytime I look at Steve.)

“It’s been that way since… I don’t know really. Didn’t have much money left after all my other treatments, figured it wasn’t a big enough deal to bog my ma down even more. She knew my hearing was shoddy, obviously, but I adapted.”

Steve wasn’t ready for the amount of emotions that flickered through Bucky’s cool eyes.

“You shouldn’t have to do that Steve.”

“It’s not like there was, or is, another option going here.” Steve snapped, suddenly pissed off that he’d revealed yet another ailment to a member of the Avengers team. And a freaking Super-Serum demi-god at that. And pissed that he was going to have to awkwardly wiggle his way out of too-expensive treatment advise for something he’d got really good at denying.

So, Steve was surprised when he managed to stare _the Winter Soldier_ down.

“Okay.” Bucky shrugged, feigning nonchalance.

“What?”

“I’ll tell Bruce you’re fine. And that I can look after your concussion.”

Steve narrowed his eyes in suspicion but knew an out when he saw one. He tried not to blush at the idea of Bucky _looking after him_. Psshh. He was a grown man, Steve could look after himself.

But something told Steve Bucky secretly hadn’t dropped the issue.

 

 

_~~~_

Steve sighed, reclining back into the squishy sofa, watching Sam busying in the kitchen, singing low and quietly to the radio. Bucky emerged from the corridor to the bathroom a moment later, smiling to himself at Sam’s crooning voice. Bucky caught Steve’s gaze, and in a split second of awkwardness, Steve bolted upright. Bucky crossed his arms, looking away. 

Natasha exhaled a derisive snort at the two idiots. It was just the four of them for dinner. She may or may not have distracted or conveniently convinced the others they had something better to do, and it wasn’t for Steve’s sake or anything. She watched as Steve he had to lean forward to catch what Bucky was saying. His hearing wasn’t quite back to normal then. She’d keep an eye on that.

Bucky mumbled something about getting out board games for distraction purposes and disappeared off, presumably to find them.

“It’s alright you know, to relax.” Natasha used the opportunity to speak to Steve from her place in the arm chair, “We’re not doing this just because of Hydra.” Steve swallowed and raised a doubtful eyebrow.

“Well yes, it may have certainly helped us in damn-well getting off our arses. It wasn’t just up to Bucky to contact you, so I’m sorry for that. I suppose I felt that way you wouldn’t be dragged into things.”

“Meaning, the Hydra mess you didn’t even know was coming?” Steve probed sceptically. Natasha liked that about Steve. Sure, he was a smidgen intimidated by her, but Steve would never let anyone steam-roller him about anything.

She scoffed. She couldn’t bullshit Steve, and that spoke volumes in itself.

“I mean dragged into _this._ ” She gestured to the room around her, “Suddenly have access to things you didn’t have before and not having time to process it. Sometimes not even wanting it. The press, the stalkers, the danger. Missions. Aliens for fuck sake.

Bucky is coping with his feelings a lot faster than he would have done otherwise, but we _like_ you Steve. We’re not going to turf you out as soon as this shit is over. If we didn’t like you in even the slightest, well, I wouldn’t have tried to sleep with you in the first place.”

Steve grinned, overwhelmed with gratitude, but had lost the ability to articulate at this point.

“That’s off the table now, just to clarify,” Nat began to gesture towards where Bucky had disappeared, before stopping herself, alarmed with the realisation of what she’d done.

Bucky? Steve wondered, what’s that got to do with him potentially sleeping with Nata—No. No way! She couldn’t mean—Bucky? Interested in him? Steve?

Unexpectedly, Nat's face abruptly lost all niceness of the past five minutes.

“I’m going to sound like a hypocrite now, as I’m the assassin famed for being capable of anything. But this is _Bucky_ we’re talking about. Not the Winter Soldier on a mission.”

Steve nodded resolutely listening, captivated by the sharpness of Natasha’s eyes; this is what it’s like to talk to Black Widow, he realised.

 “If there’s any chance of this ‘other guy’ you told me about--”

“What?” Steve couldn’t help himself but interrupt this seemingly serious moment. His confusion was mirrored by Natasha’s.

“I don’t-” They simultaneously spoke. “You-”

Steve suddenly put his face a lot closer to Natasha, voice deep. “There isn’t…that night after the club,” he gritted his teeth, “I may have been referring to... Bucky.”

 

“Oh!” Nat swung back, exclaiming in delight, drawing the immediate attention of Sam still over in the kitchen.

Thankfully, as Sam opened his mouth in question, Bucky came striding back into the room.

“So, we had twister, but I figured with Stevie’s head ‘n all,” He fluttered his metal hand around in an aimless gestured distracted by reading the back of the box in his hand, “But! I did find this super old version of Cluedo.”

Steve’s cheeks burned, still, at the casual way ‘Stevie’ rolled off Bucky’s tongue in his Brooklyn drawl.

“Super old as in, you super old?”

Bucky flipped Sam the bird over his shoulder, who’d started dishing up at the enormous breakfast bar.

“Come on then,” Nat pulled Steve up from the sofa, “Before Barnes starts pining over you so badly we can hear it.”

Steve pretended not to notice the direct grin she gave Bucky (who steadfastly ignored her, coupled with an 'I-will-kill-you-when-we're-alone' kind of glare.)

Steve was certainly surprised when Bucky pulled out a chair for him at one places set. Oh god. Was this some gentlemanly thing from the 40’s? Because if so, Steve’s ability to focus on anything but Bucky was going out the window.

Sam, without a doubt seeing the subtle panic in Steve's eyes, leant diagonally across the table, and tried to help, blissfully unaware of the panic actually residing from what was threatening to happen in Steve’s pants.

 "He's from the 40’s remember- chill, he’s not getting his uniform out." He winked, reclining back in his chair as Bucky returned with a gigantic dish of sweet potato wedges. As of this moment Steve decided it would be better if Aliens appeared in a hole in the sky and they all had to leave Steve to eat dinner by himself. Because let’s face it, that’s what he’d be doing in an alien invasion regardless.

Bucky seated himself opposite Steve, gently knocking their knees together. Steve blushed (for the love of God his cheeks were broken) and avoided eye contact.

"So, Steve-" Natasha’s Cheshire cat grin directed at him, just in time with Steve's loud stomach rumbling, he slammed his hand down on his stomach to try and silence the rumbles.

"Hungry, are we?" Sam laughed.

"We never got lunch!" Bucky moaned, chiming in as he returned with a whole pile of chicken.

~~

A good couple of hours passed as they chatted about how Sam and Bucky had met jogging and laughed at Bucky’s ‘On your left!’ antics. Somewhere in the middle of that, Steve stuffed his face with lemon cheesecake that Sam had apparently baked earlier (before Natasha retrieved the shop packages from the kitchen.)  


"Why would you do that!?" Sam wailed, "Now Steve's going to think all my future baked goods are a fraud!" "Because it proves how much you love cooking but are awful at baking deserts. Despite seamlessly covering your tracks- or trying to, rather." Bucky replied dryly, smirking.

"I," Sam stood with declaration, "Am not awful! I at least have the decency to get the good quality shit you like Barnes!"

Sam let out an undignified yelp as Bucky pushed him onto the floor with seemingly little effort at all. "I don’t need you Barnes! Next time I’m getting blackcurrent."

Steve held back a laugh when Bucky’s joke glare became at least partially real. After two forward rolls and somehow pencil-rolling to the sofa, Sam stood with a bow to the applause of the others (and Bucky's muffled hum), and flopped onto the plush chair.

"Who's up for a game of poker?"

"You said it, not me.” Bucky stood.

 "Prepare to meet your end!" Natasha flung herself towards the coffee table where Sam was already dishing out cards. Maybe no body had been counting glasses of wine.

Bucky groaned, hanging his head to rest on Steve's shoulder from where he still sat on the kitchen stool. Steve tipsy enough, and Bucky was headed for a food coma complaining about the arduous task of drunkenness under the serum, for the situation not to occur to them.

"There, there," Steve chuckled at the pliable Bucky, patting the man's head, "They can't be that good?"

Bucky laughed himself then, nuzzling at Steve’s hair, "Sam has an inexplicable, James Bond-like talent. And Nat, well, she’s Nat."

"Say no more," but Steve was already absorbed in carding through Bucky's ruffled hair. They sat like that for a moment. Bucky’s soft breath against Steve's collar bone.

"James! More wine!" Natasha suddenly hollered without looking over her shoulder, and immediately cursed when she did.

In that second, Steve stilled, and drank in his current position. Fuck.

Natasha and Sam, however, were ludicrously surprised that Bucky didn't flee as he realised too. He merely turned his head to look at Natasha; "I'm not your bar wench; it's in the fridge."

Steve figured the enormously calm (for Bucky) reaction, was because it was only the four of them. Bucky, to Steve's disappointment, got up then to flick Sam’s ear and sat on the floor by the coffee table.

After dolling out chips and cards, Sam started the game.

Whilst the other two were preoccupied with Nat’s annoyingly good card tricks and Sam’s shockingly accurate English accent, Steve lent over to Bucky- only because they were sitting knee to knee, he told himself.

Bucky flicked those piercing eyes down at him. "Peeking at my cards Stevie?" He quipped, a dancing smile.

Steve swallowed, suddenly embarrassed. 'Don't be stupid', he scolded himself, 'there's nothing wrong with not knowing.' 'Except for the fact that he'll see you as a fucking inadequate six-year-old who he found drinking lemonade in a bar.'

"I don't know how to play poker." Steve whispered instead.

Bucky's mouth made an O shape in understanding.

"The objective of poker is to win money by capturing the pot," he whispered, leaning flush against Steve's side, "which contains bets made by players during the hand. A player wagers a bet in hopes that he has the best hand, or to give that impression, and thus convince his opponents to abandon their cards." Bucky was clearly trying to dumb it down, but he wasn’t remotely patronising.

"Just try and get as many consecutive cards in the same suit, or matching sets for now. Aim for the top 4 cards and an Ace," he winked, "Royal Straight Flush."

Steve thanked all the deities in existence that the others were too preoccupied to notice Bucky’s hand on the floor next to Steve, forearm brushing against his thigh as he whispered the rules to him. He was also incredibly glad, for a rare successful moment in his life, that he was sitting with his knees up. Steve was about to start breathing again when Bucky accidently (on purpose?) brushed his nose against Steve's nose. Were they really sitting that close?

Neither of them mentioned it, but Nat narrowed her eyes as she looked up on her turn to see Steve and Bucky as bright red as each other.

 

"I never asked where you came from, Steve?" Nat asked midway through the game. Steve smiled, suddenly bashful, fuck knows why.

"Brooklyn." He choked out. "Born and raised. I lived in the city with my parents since I was born. It’s just me now… but I still have the place me and ma moved to when dad passed."

The others smiled sadly, knowingly, so Steve guessed they'd all lost someone too, along the road. Steve went on to answer their abundance of questions; he talked about his artwork, how he got into college on a scholarship, but didn't have enough money for the materials so got two jobs until he got enough commissions, about the pet snails he used to rescue as a kid, about Peggy and her weird cousin.

Before they realised, Sam (the only one stupid enough to bet actual money against Natasha) had lost twenty dollars, Bucky owed her coffee for a week and Steve had to give her a kiss on the cheek, it was nearly one in the morning.

Steve left to go and get ready for bed (something he resolutely refused to think about) in the bathroom. Bucky busied himself by scooping up the chips Sam had thrown everywhere in his defeat and Sam was having his own mini karaoke session to the washing up bowl.

Steve was pretty pleased he remembered where it was after all the wine and the serious number of doors on this floor alone. He freshened up and put on the pyjama’s he’d brought with him, stretching his back and tried not to think about how sleeping on a sofa was really not going to be a Scoliosis joy-ride.

He rounded the corner from the bathroom only to pretty slam into Natasha. She was only slightly taller than him, so his bandaged nose managed to catch her shoulder where his head was tilted down.

"Fuck!" They let out simultaneously with the collision. Natasha started to panic when she saw the now deathly pale face opposite her.

"Shit. Steven, did I hurt you? Bruce will kill me if I extend the time you wear that nose bandage."

Steve rubbed the bridge of his nose subconsciously, he'd obviously forgotten about it.

"Er... what, no." He muttered, almost turning green now.

"Then what...?" It occurred to Natasha then, that Steve was staring at the glowing screen of the Stark Pad she’d dropped on the floor, refusing to look anywhere else.

If Steve had thought about it for two seconds, he would have handed her the Stark Pad and just walked away. But he didn't. He did exactly what his brain was willing him not to do and clutched at the tech he’d plucked from between their feet.

The Hydra insignia blared up at him, and old scanned in file that read ‘Johann Schmidt’. But it wasn’t the logo that sent Steve’s heart hammering. It was the photograph.

Natasha just stared at Steve. Damn it. If it was anyone else she would have snatched it back and allowed him to scurry away with a warning about deep clearance files and prying eyes. However, she decided with better judgement that this time, something else was happening.

Before she could speak, Steve beat her to it. Stern. Demanding.

“Nat. Who is that man?”

She looked at Steve dead in the eye, but he couldn’t possibly…

“He’s dead Steve.” She stated harshly, “He was the former head of Hydra. Confidant of Hitler. Failed Super-Serum experiment. He’s _dead_ Steve.”

“I’ve seen him Nat.”

Nat put a hand on Steve's shoulder to stop him from working himself up, but he simply pulled away.

“I’m not crazy Nat.”

There was a fire in his eyes she didn’t expect to see there, and it was enough to set her own doubt alight.

“Where?” She asked, tongue sharp.

“My local coffee shop. I know it sounds insane don’t look at me like that!”

“Keep. Your voice down.”

“Every Wednesday Nat. Whenever I go for a break there. He’s always there. A regular. Same table. Same order. Creepy, always stares.”

“Steve, just hold on-”

“I’m not fucking ‘holding on’ Nat!” Steve was whispering hoarsely now, aggravation seeping out of every poor, “Why the hell is the LEADER OF HYDRA in _my_ coffee shop!? – You can’t just ignore me.”

Natasha shushed him, waving at him with one hand and scrolling through her Stark Pad with the other whilst they stood in the corridor.

“Do you recognise him?”

She pulled up a picture of a small, round man with moleish glasses.

“What’s Arnim Zola got to do with this?” Steve frowned.

“Nat?”

Now it was Natasha’s turn to go pale.

“Nat what’s happening?”

“I don’t know.” She whispered.

Steve was pretty sure those three syllables uttered from _Black Widow_ were the scariest ones he’d ever heard.

"Fuck." Steve frantically whispered to Natasha, trying to get more information out, to get her magically back on track so she could tell Steve she was ahead of the game like always.

"He’s an art collector. Came by a gallery I have a few paintings in at Brooklyn. I know the owner, sometimes help with coffee shifts instead of paying to exhibit. They called up, said there was some Swiss guy looking to buy my work. He’s been to my fucking house! To my studio! Fuck. I'm not, it's not-- He wasn't—He seemed professional, I don’t just give out my address--"

Natasha grabbed both his shoulders this time, and Steve ceased to function at all, mouth open, staring up at he, eyes wild.

"I get it. Steve. You are not an idiot for showing him your work or your studio. It’s not your fault you live there too. It’s not your fault you didn’t know who he was. They’re both meant to be dead."

Steve's mouth continued to hang open, eyes slightly glazed now.

"Steve? You with me?"

"But they... what?" He managed, still completely frozen.

"They’re not just Hydra, alright? They were the ones who started experimenting on Bucky in the 40’s. Schmidt is Red Skull, you’ve heard the ghost stories right?"

Steve continued to gawp, “I… Oh my God, Bucky.”

At that exact moment Bucky rounded the corner. Natasha locked the screen.

"Nat, doll, do you have any washing u--"

He stopped, his eyes narrowed.

"Just discussing the amount of time you’ve spent watching Star Wars in such a short space of time since being back." Natasha said with a smile as easy and natural as anything.

Bucky suddenly beamed. "Star Wars. Is. The best."

Steve’s brain shuttered. He stared at Nat.

Did the prior incident not even occur? Steve knew the leaders of Hydra. He’d invited the man who completely destroyed Bucky’s life into his home. And now Natasha was just breezing through like nothing in the world was wrong. They were still out there. Natasha knew. Steve knew. And they _weren’t saying anything._

"Sorry, James, I'm a trekkie all round and you know it." She winked.

He realised Natasha and Bucky were waiting expectantly.

“Um. Star Wars.” Steve said lamely.

“For shame Stevie!” Bucky clapped him on the back as they headed down the corridor, “Hey, so how about we head down to mine and Sam’s floor? We have a spare room down there with and en-suite. And towels and stuff. You know.”

Steve just stared at Bucky, who chuckled a bit uneasy and continued on behalf of Steve’s awkward silence, “Yeah, yeah, how big is this place ‘n all that.”

The last thing Steve saw as the elevator doors slid shut was Natasha silently shaking her head.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote derivative snort, instead of derisive snort. That was really funny to me and I don’t know why.  
> So! The fic took a turn I didn’t expect at all and I’m excited about writing the next bit. Ooo drama drama. This is 11 pages :-0 the most I’ve ever written for a chapter! Yay!


	10. The Devil’s not a Friend to No-one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s the hour where everybody thinks too much in the dark.  
> Bucky is all confuses. There’s cupcakes involved.  
> Warning for a pretty intense nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I'd update quickly as I have a really busy week coming up!

Steve rolled over again. Too hot with bed sheets, too cold without them. He gave up and left them tangled frustratingly around his legs.

He stared at the high ceiling above him. This room much the same as the one he’d slept in all those months ago, but clearly wasn’t used anywhere near as much. There was a desk the same as before with a stack of unopened letters. An empty tool box on the floor with a massive pack of screwdrivers still in their sealed packet beside it. Some small weights haphazardly dumped by the door and a few other bits of random crap that had obviously been shoved into the spare room last minute for the illusion of tidiness elsewhere. Steve wondered whether he was another case of out of sight, out of mind.

This was all insane. He couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d seen in that Hydra file, google search results of soldier experiments floating before his eyes.

Why didn’t Natasha want Bucky to know? Maybe she didn’t believe Steve at all and was searching for substantial evidence first before they effectively blew Bucky’s world to shreds. All the confidence and security, his fucking comfort in the death of those Hydra leaders and scientists would be completely blown out of the water.

~~

Why was he obsessing over alcohol?

Of all the things Bucky could be thinking about.

Sure, he didn’t miss waking up the morning after with a blinding headache, the desperate need for a shit, or aching joints. But back in the 40’s it seemed worth it. To fucking forget about something, everything, anything for at least a night. He’d taken it for granted.

Even Natasha gave him sympathy and agreed it was terrible, considering it constituted as her version of a balanced diet.

When he started getting back to being himself- whatever that was-for the first week he'd gotten by. He began to struggle then, suddenly switching back to the soldier, unprovoked. He didn’t live in the tower with Sam. Tony found out about Mission Report December Sixte- that Bucky _killed_ his parents. And that was it. Bucky was gone again. He’d just cleared his name, found a place of safety that wasn’t a shitty abandoned flat in Bucharest, when his brain started flipping off and on like a broken switch. Sam called it adjusting and healing, getting his memory back. Bucky called it bullshit. One thing he and Soldat actually agreed on.

So, he’d left. To New Jersey to spend half his time skulking around the Pine Barrens alone like an even more fucked-up version of the Jersey Devil.

It’d taken a fated, arguably regrettable, trip back into Brooklyn for Sam to bump into him again. Bucky had gone to a pizzeria he and his sister visited once, to try and ground himself back in reality after a harrowing set of night terrors. He vowed to himself never to go back to the Pine Barrens. Ever.

His flash backs and total dissociation were coming back. It was Rumlow, Bucky knew it. The sense of unease followed him everywhere. Without a doubt Sam and Natasha noticed, but Bucky pretended, and they said nothing. Bucky knew he was probably making it harder for himself by not following any regulated routine at the moment, but he couldn't bring himself to. Not after the fucking useless "Priority Planner for Effective People" bullshit Tony had given him on a Stark Pad as a joke. Turns out, having a robot voice repeatedly blurt instructions to an ex-brainwashed-assassin with Handler triggers, was a TERRIBLE idea. The Soldat- Bucky, had destroyed half of the common room and punched Tony in the face with his _metal hand_ before Wanda had stepped in.

But tonight had been a great evening at least, Bucky told himself. Only half wishing he had the confidence and ability to get hammered of 40s James Barnes.

Now though, lying awake, tossing and turning, all he could think about was the empty, gaping, chasm that couldn’t have been filled with alcohol even back then.

Bucky ran an agitated hand through his way too long hair. He needed to chill the fuck out. He was never normally one to be this physically antsy, but as he perched on the edge of the bed watching the clock, he twisted his hands in the sheets, leg jigging up and down.

He knew Steve was perfectly capable of defending himself against most of New York's population. But Hydra weren't the majority. He had learnt that the hard way, as had Natasha.

Right now, he wished he had walked Natasha all the way to her floor and locked the door behind them, to rest safely in her bed, to be held by her just as much as hold her. We’re not like that anymore, Bucky reminded himself. Part of him wanted it to be Steve even more than Natasha.

Bucky was well practised at remaining stoic around everyone, but here, in the dark with Rumlow on the prowl, his mind was consumed with an inexplicable fear for both Steve and the oth--

Bucky’s heart palpated in rhythm with his vibrating phone. Caller ID: Natasha

"Nat?" Even to himself he knew he sounded frantic.

There was a pause.

"Hey."

Nat never was one for many words, but he noticed she was more strained than usual.

"Why are you calling me from two floors away?" Bucky tried to sound gruff, but it just came out all quiet and weird.

"Shut up." She snapped.

Bucky was too tired to reply with a quip, and this didn't escape her notice, nothing rarely did.

He waited.

Natasha grunted in annoyance and Bucky could hear her shuffling around.

“Just come upstairs Nat.” Was all he said and hung up.

Bucky rolled over when he heard his door click open and a little slither of light appeared and disappeared again. Natasha quietly got in the other side of the bed, mirroring Bucky’s position on his back, staring at the ceiling.

"When will Hydra just leave us alone?” Natasha whispered.

Bucky swallowed the anger he was too tired to process.

"I don't know." He sighed, "When they’re dead."

~~~~~~

Bucky’s lungs were being blended to dust under broken ribs, but the Soldat didn’t need to take a breather. He ignored the bruising and the weight of a man practically standing on his spine. As he regained consciousness, he let out a pitiful grunt as his face grinded across the concrete, half congealed blood matting in his hair and leaving a metallic taste on his tongue. In the process of being hauled upright, it occurred to Bucky he was in fact, Bucky, and there was no knowledge of a target anywhere in his head.

He tried to wriggle away from the hand that was clutching at his collar, cutting off his windpipe. Suddenly Bucky was in the war camp again, a lot slighter, and most definitely smaller than after the Serum.

He managed to jerk up from table and slam his knee into Zola’s face before stumbling to the floor.

Bucky, in a brief moment of triumph spurred on by excruciating pain, managed to twist enough to hook his ankle around the back of the scientist’s knee, and dig his heal in with all his might. Before he could crash to the ground along with his experimenter, however, something strange seemed to happen. The grime on the concrete walls began to wriggle with an intensity that made Bucky’s eyes hurt, until they began to clump together, forming medical equipment and viewing screens and IV drips.

And the chair.

"No!" Bucky began screaming, thrashing to get away. The entire world seemed to point, stretching into a knife edge as someone grabbed his hair. They began to strap him down.

Pierce.

He grinned, tearing a handful of Bucky’s now bloody, hair upwards, causing him to cry out, tears flooding his vision. "Watch. Him."

Those two grating whispers made Bucky feel as if the skin was being scraped from his bones. There, right opposite him in a matching black chair was Steve. Bleeding, beaten--

\--"JAMES! For the love of God!"

He felt as if his eyes were being ripped from his skull in his sudden attempt to free himself from his dream.

"Natalia!" He cried, groping out blindly, sobbing like a child, "Nat!" 

~~~~~~~

Steve's eyes snapped open. When did he fall asleep?

A split second later he realised the source of waking distress, all thoughts drowned out by the strangled yells coming from Bucky’s room down the hall.

Steve was up and out of his room before he even realised. Disorientated and panicked by Bucky's shouts, Sam too stumbled into the hallway.

Sam strode forwards, pausing and just staring at Steve. Expression unreadable. Before shaking his head minutely at Steve and carrying on towards Bucky’s door. Steve tried to follow but Sam placed his hand on Steve’s chest and pushed him back slightly in warning.

The yelling had stopped.

After glancing to find the door still intact, Sam pushed open the door to Bucky’s bedroom.

Natasha looked up as Sam poked his head in the door and felt Bucky tense. She made a shooing gesture and Sam closed the door again.

\----- 

Only the impulsive part of Steve’s brain wished he’d defied Sam and gone into Bucky’s room. The same part that wanted to just blurt out the information he had on Hydra.

Steve stared at the spaced-out Natasha sitting opposite him at the kitchen island. She was frowning at something, an interior debate raging.

So, of course, Steve’s brain proceeded to ponder into dangerous territory. What if Nat wanted him to leave in order to protect Bucky? He kicked himself for thinking it.

 There were too many things upending in unison, causing anxiety to spur up in his over-taxed and slightly hungover brain.

~~

Bucky shuffled into the kitchen and steadfastly ignored the other two glancing at him. He pulled out his hands from Nat’s oversized sweater (that had been his in the first place) and poured himself a coffee. He slunk over to the sofa and curled up around his coffee mug. The few perfectly combined issues to make Bucky feel his worst crushing down on his shoulders.

"And yet you can't even manage a simple task such as that. Wipe him." Their voices were back, and it stripped him to the core.

It was only when Steve, right in front of his face, gently called out "hey," that Bucky realised belatedly that he’d fallen into what Tony liked to call a ‘brain-gorm’.

Bucky’s mind was not functioning, rendered speechless. So he sat, slouched (damn to decorum), staring into those bright blue eyes full of fiery warmth.

Steve wasn’t surprised when Bucky simply ceased to function in that moment- Steve couldn’t blame him given last night.

It was a rare moment that Bucky just didn't care for the world around him. Too absorbed in wherever his thoughts were running to even give a shit about whether or not his heart was on his sleeve. So, he just carried on staring.

After his initial attempt at grabbing Bucky’s attention, Steve figured that he must trust him enough to just let his tiredness, his confusion, his absence, show so plainly. Sitting there, all bundled up in an old deep-blue pullover, mussed up hair, with hunched over shoulders, hands tucked inside balled up sleeves- Steve suddenly realised how young Bucky actually was despite existing for decades.

Even when Bucky seemed to gaze directly into Steve's eyes, Steve merely gazed back, taking in in full awe those eyes that yield pale blue with refined strikes of grey.

But then the coffee pot clicked again. 

~~

Bucky felt his eyes move, somewhat sluggishly, away from Steve. He needed more caffeine. He darted up to the kitchen suddenly enough to make Steve topple back onto his butt from where he was crouched on the floor.

He could hear Steve slowly getting up and padding over as he wondered whether it was natural for thoughts to be so much darker at night. He knew it wasn’t.

Bucky tried to breathe in the morning sunlight noticing Natasha had disappeared off somewhere. 

~~

Bucky’s thoughts were going down a road, Steve could tell, from the way the man curled over his second cup of coffee, gazing into its murky depths as he leant his forearms against the kitchen side.

His worry overrode his ability to think about what he was doing- or so Steve told himself later when he thought about it way too much. Overthinking with hindsight- another trait of his according to Peggy.

Steve walked over, telegraphing his movements, to rest his face on Bucky’s back, cheeks tickled by that soft jumper. It smelt good. Safe. Bucky.

"I’m sorry..." Steve felt the rigid tension melt out of Bucky’s shoulders as he spoke.

"For what?" Steve sounded incredulous at the other man’s statement.

"...Dragging you into this." 'Why are you going down this road?' Bucky thought to himself.

“I want to be here you twat. I want to help. If I didn’t, I’d be gone by now and even the Avengers couldn’t stop me." Bucky heard from the back of his jumper, making his spine tingle.

That most definitely made Bucky feel better than he had in days, he thought, releasing a chuckle. Stubborn guy, this Steve.

~~

Sam caught the glance that Bucky and Steve exchanged when he walked through the elevator doors. Whatever that means, he scoffed to himself.

Okay, so maybe it was bit of an over kill, but he sure as fuck wasn't going to let Bucky mope back to bed. He’d gone out and bought breakfast cupcakes- the kind with shit tonnes of piped icing and whole raspberries inside (as well as a frappe for himself, because everyone in this place seemed to drink solid coffee beans).

"Oh." Steve made a cute puppy face that would have been irritating right now on anybody else.

Bucky felt his face fall before he could stop it. Crap. Why couldn't he be the emotionless cyborg when he wanted, and not act like he'd just watched the notebook.

"We didn't realise you'd gone out." Steve finished. Bucky glared at Sam.

Sure, he looked angry, but Sam knew he couldn't count the ways Bucky was probably internalizing some kind of protective guilt.

But Sam was too tired to deal with it right now- which proved how out of it he was. Not that he'd admit that. Ever.

Thankfully Natasha returned from wherever she’d disappeared to, yawning, scratching the waistband of her pyjamas, to rescue the moment- or so Sam thought.

"Why did you buy cakes? It’s half nine in the morning" Natasha raised an eyebrow.

Bucky's mind was working four steps above overdrive and took the insult on behalf of Sam.

"I can eat what I fucking want okay?" He grabbed a cupcake and shoved way too much of it in his mouth. That’s why his eyes were watering. Totally.

A sad look flashed across Natasha’s face before she spoke, playing with Bucky’s hair,

“Yeah. You can James.”

Steve sighed, "Well I don't know about you guys, but I'm gonna eat my cupcake at whatever--" he made an obscene groan (judging by Bucky’s face), "--raspberry and white chocolate. Fuck. yes."

Bucky proceeded to go redder.

Everyone stared at Steve, who briefly choked on the cupcake as he became aware of everyone's eyes on him. (Sam so wanted to take a picture of Bucky right now).

"The... they were--cup-- you weren't going to eat all these were you??!!"

Steve sounded so terrified of what he'd just done that Sam couldn't help but laugh. Natasha joined in, even Bucky had a grin going on and was making suspicious wheezing sounds.

Bucky wanted to kiss Steve right now as he munched through his, and half of Natasha's, breakfast cupcake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta Da! :-)  
> Woah we're half way through would you believe???


	11. Slow Mover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’d been several hours since what Sam had named ‘The Face-Off’, and Bucky was starting to move from I-will-kill-Steve-Rogers-myself territory, into the is-Steve-Rogers-sad-I-must-find-him zone.  
> He decided to knock on Steve’s bedroom door, armed with a pot of Chinese take-out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday to Its_The_Summer_Of_2001_LilyElla! This chapter update is devoted to you and your glorious comments.
> 
> Introducing another hero who’s as much of a mess as Steve is. Steve rescues him.

Steve stared out beyond the huge window panes of the Stark Tower. The rain had been a torrent on the city for nearly an hour and Steve watched the dots of people below scuttle away like ants until nothing was left but the slow crawl of taxis and dim city lights. Sudden thunder followed by an abrupt stop of rain made Steve wonder distantly whether it had something to with Thor.

Steve hadn’t seen much of the Avengers on his second day at the tower. After following yesterday morning’s cupcakes with toast, Sam and Natasha disappeared off to places unknown and it was just him and Bucky. Steve noted Bucky coming back to himself throughout the day, feet barely touching as they sat at opposite ends of the sofa, only moving for popcorn or drink top-ups. They’d spent today in pretty much the same way. Steve had tried not to be fidgety, he really had, but he couldn’t help but wonder what was going through the super soldier’s head. Bucky hadn’t mentioned any kind of go-to plan for their current situation, _Steve’s_ current situation, and he wondered whether they had one at all. So, sue him if he was getting a little twitchy around the edges when no one seemed to be doing anything. Not that he was mad at Bucky mind you, the guy needed a fucking break for once in his life and even Steve could see that.

Steve knew in theory it was simple: Hydra was on the rampage once again, the Avengers were quietly going about their business to try and stop it without the world going into panic mode, and for some reason they thought Steve had information, so it was best if he stayed at the tower.

But it sure as fuck didn’t _feel_ simple to Steve.

The huge floor to ceiling windows only succeeded in making Steve feel smaller as he pushed his palms flat against the cold glass and watched as his nose created a fog. He bumped his head slightly as he over estimated how far away he was. The cool feeling of the window did wonders for his head (who the fuck let Steve have wine only a few hours after his concussion had eased up. He had no self-control at this point.) Steve prayed no-one would bring up the hearing, or lack thereof, thing again.

Steve wondered what he was doing. He and Bucky were barely friends. Let alone whatever… this was. Steve was caught up in a whirlwind he had no hope of slowing down.

He jumped at the soft cough that came from over his shoulder and he tore his body away from the window where it felt like he hung over the city. Greeted at the sight of Bucky still damp from the shower and currently scrunching his hair with a towel made Steve inexplicably nervous.

“Stevie?” He raised an eyebrow, “You doin’ okay bud?” there was that lilt again.

Steve observed his feet, before resolutely looking up into Bucky’s worried expression.

“What’s happening?” was all Steve said.

Bucky frowned, “You’re gunna need to elaborate on that a little.”

Steve growled a little at that, before folding his arms.

“What are we doing? Right now? And what the fuck is everyone else doing to solve this Hydra issue. I don’t like sitting idle, and I don’t like bullies.”

Bucky looked at Steve with what he could have sworn was awe, but Steve dismissed the thought immediately.

Suddenly Bucky seemed to decide that Steve was more than capable of handling the truth.

“Tony and Pepper are doing their best to reach out to their connections to find any trace of Rumlow’s movements, anything as small as a credit card payment under an alias. Sam, Clint and Wanda are out on the ground questioning everyone and anyone they can. Bruce is on surveillance with Thor. And Nat… she has some kind of intel. She’s off grid, but I trust her.”

Steve swallowed the guilt he felt at that, willing himself to think about the moment at hand.

“… And you?” He asked.

“Me? I’m here with you pal.” Bucky chirped back. Steve had to try really hard to ignore the impish smirk that had slid onto his face.

“You’re on babysitting duty.” Steve frowned, tapping his foot in time with his rising annoyance.

Bucky glared back., “I didn’t say that Steve. We’re not keeping you here.”

Steve picked up on the lack of soft nickname. How could he not.

“Right. So, you wouldn’t be pissed, or try to follow me if I just straight up left.”

Bucky’s face contorted with effort to hide his emotions. Which apparently failed with Steve.

“Why are you being like this?” Bucky demanded.

“Um, maybe because I don’t even fucking know you guys and now I’m living with you because a crazy Nazi terrorist group wants to kidnap me for really pointless reasons.”

Okay, so maybe that was harsh, but Bucky seemed to concede to his point. His shoulders deflated, and Steve’s righteous anger seemed to evaporate a bit.

“Okay.” Bucky’s answer startled Steve a little, “Okay. So, we get to know each other then. And if by the end of it you still think I’m a monumental douchebag you can leave. If you get kidnapped I _suppose_ I’ll just have to kidnap you back again.”

Steve laughed, put out by Bucky’s sudden humour, “Wow, well now I think you’re a monumental douchebag. You brought that on yourself.”

Bucky just snorted loftily and guided Steve to the sofa by the shoulders.

“I would have got to know you eventually, you know.”

“What?” replied Steve, confused by the sudden statement.

“That night in the bar.” Bucky swallowed, stroking his thumb over Steve’s cheek, “God, I thought you were so attractive, doll. I very much had the intention of getting your number before…” He trailed off, snatching his hand away as quickly as it had appeared to pick up the remote instead. Embarrassment was rolling off him in waves.

 

 

Suddenly Bucky felt Steve’s hand gently combing out knots from his hair and he realised he’d wandered off somewhere in his head again. They were already nearly through a Parks and Recreation episode.

"Dude. When did you last brush your hair?" Steve Asked

"I d....uunnmmo mm." Bucky muttered through a huge yawn, ruining any threats in Steve’s mind he could make as the Winter Soldier.

Bucky rolled head back, relaxed, warm, and spoke to the ceiling,

“I’m usually hell of a lot smoother than this, you know.”

Steve snorted, “Sure.”

Bucky sat up and glared indignantly, “Hey! I charm all the ladies you know, pal.”

“Ah,” Steve grinned, “That’s why you’re so shitty at flirting with me then.”

Bucky stuck his tongue, yes he was a child, “You should add annoyingly correct to this list of things I should know about you then, Stevie. You ask a question first.”

~~

Steve wanted to brain himself on the wall of the Avengers common room. He’d been here for five days total now, and there were only so many times you could go to the Stark Library, watch episodes of Brooklyn 99, and nap on the sofa.

None of the Avengers were in the tower, still out trying to find anything on Rumlow. Nat was still off-grid. The knowledge that Schmidt and Zola were out there somewhere whilst Bucky had joined Clint, Sam and Wanda in the field, was slowly eating away at him. Pepper had had dinner with him last night after Bucky had left. She was one of the loveliest people Steve had ever met, and she sure knew her stuff about modern art. But now he was back on his lonesome

Steve had been laying on the sofa thinking about what Tony would do if he painted a mural on the wall, when he got his phone out and his rail card flipped out of his pocket and smacked onto the floor.

Steve stared at it.

No Steve.

YES Steve.

Suffice to say the internal debate didn’t last long. That’s probably why Steve’s brain didn’t have time to flag it up as a terrible fucking idea.

~~

It wasn’t until Steve had already been on the subway for twenty minutes and was half way to Brooklyn when it occurred to him what he was doing. He blanched as he looked around the train car, like he could somehow pick out Hydra agents.

So, his plan was to head out. Easy. He could do that. He just had to get to a library where his card was valid. He didn’t even have to try to visit the dreaded coffee shop. He totally hadn’t decided to go there. Totally.

Steve adamantly avoided thinking about the fact that all the Avengers were out of the city, so who would even come and get him if he needed it? Steve laughed at ‘come and get me’, like it was simply getting a lift after a football game or something. It was fine. All he had to do was get in, see what information he could find on Hydra and the red Skull and get out again.

~~

Steve was still out of breath from rushing out of the library, highly aware he needed his inhaler. All he’d been able to find were books on World War II histories and secret experiments. At least he had a more in-depth knowledge of Hydra now, he tried to tell himself that was a good thing. He was pissed at himself for being spooked enough to leave. A guy who seemed weirdly at ease smiling at Steve, he couldn’t fathom why, somehow morphed in Steve’s head from a bit of a hipster to an evil mastermind planning a ruse to drug Steve with his exorbitant coffee and carry him away over a flannel-clad shoulder.

Ducking his way into the nearest alley to fumble his inhaler out of his pocket, Steve turned around sharply when a muffled “Nononononono.” registered through his wheezing.

There was a kid in the alley.

There was a kid, in the alley?

He can’t have been any older than fifteen and he was currently trying to tuck a ripped, blood-covered flap of jean back into the rest of the trouser leg. He froze as soon as Steve took a step forward. How the fuck did he hear that from all the way at the back of the alley? He narrowed his eyes at Steve warily, clearly uneasy that he’d been caught. He looked ready to neck it any second, even with his leg bleeding everywhere. He took a moment to shove something further into his backpack, but Steve didn’t get a good look at it, and clearly the kid didn’t want him to either.

“Woah, hey there kiddo.” Steve’s voice was back to his normal deep rumble that always seemed to big for his frame, thank God, as opposed to the screeching that was happening in his head five minutes ago.

The kid’s eyes widened exponentially. Steve decided to carry on talking, establish he wasn’t a threat,

“You get in a fight? My name’s Steve. I’ll stay over here, but do you need help kid?”

Steve didn’t expect the teenager to blurt out, “Kid!? Are you even older than me?”

“Hey!” Steve snapped, “I’m 25. Thank you very much.”

The kid had the grace to blush a little as Steve crossed his arms indignantly, and hobbled towards Steve, hand stretched out.

“Sorry. Hi, I’m Peter Parker by the way.”

Steve took the handshake, “Well, not that these are the greatest circumstances, but nice to meet you.”

Steve could see the fight in the kid, Peter, he reminded Steve of his younger, even scrappier self. Peter hissed as Steve bent down to poke at the wound.

“This is a pretty bad cut Peter, want me to call someone or get you a cab to the ER? You’ll probably need stitches, trust me I’ve had a lot of experience.”

“What!? No! No, sorry, I’ll be fine seriously, I can walk!”

Steve crossed his arms at the wince Peter let out when he tried to put pressure on it. Peter groaned and smacked his head back onto the wall. Steve pretended not to notice just how hard he did it. Peter cracked one eye open,

“Please. My aunt can’t find out about this. And I can’t go to the ER for… reasons.”

Steve’s mind flashed back to an even smaller Steve begging Peggy not to take him back to his ma’s after yet another fight and the amount of times he nearly got arrested. He hesitated.

“Look, if you’re really in trouble, stranger danger and everything but, my apartment’s only a few blocks away. You can wait outside if you want.”

Steve wanted to punch himself in the face as soon as the words left his mouth, the whole point of staying away from his apartment was so Hydra or whatever wouldn’t find him. But Peter was looking at him so hopefully he continued nonetheless.

“I have a first aid kit, get in a lot of fights.”

For once someone didn’t look him up and down disbelievingly, the kid just nodded in gloomy understanding.

~~

**Two days prior**

Bucky felt more uneasy than he had three days ago when he’d first found Steve. Because he was actively _leaving_ Steve unprotected to go on this mission with Sam, Clint and Wanda. His anxiety was pounding through his head as if someone had locked Mjolnir inside his skull, leaving it to hammer in its cage as Thor summoned it. He was pissed too. Pissed he’d let the past few days’ worth of events get to him and he’d had a full-blown freak out. Bucky hadn’t even realised until Sam had pointed out that Steve was staying in the Stark Tower and he didn’t exactly need a bodyguard in the common room of the Penthouse.

“Barnes.” Sam had whispered harshly, pulling Bucky by the elbow into the hallway, an absent-minded Steve slumped over one of Bruce’s books (Nation, he thinks it was called) in the kitchen. “The last thing he needs is babying.”

Bucky glared, not wanting to hear this in the slightest.

Sam continued, “Don’t pout at me you over-grown teenager.” he jabbed a finger into Bucky’s chest. Think about how much you’d want to punch you in the face if all you did was hover. We’ve got eyes out for Rum-blow and that’s exactly where we’re headed.”

“What I want is eyes on Stev--” Bucky began,

Shit. Sam looked angry, “Don’t ask me to creep on Steve!”

Bucky couldn’t cope with all the emotions coursing through his veins at once. Guilt. Fear. Hope. Disappointment, the list went on.

Sam rolled his eyes all of a sudden, pulling lost-puppy Bucky into a one-armed hug.

“Look,” he whispered, “You can’t just get other people to spy on him. If you want eyes on him, stay here and hang out with him yourself.” Bucky grumbled, so Sam counted, “Or perv him up from a distance then, lookie.” Sam was rewarded with a punch on the arm and shoved him back into the common room.

And of course, Sam should have expected as much, as he turned, there was Steve staring wide-eyed down the corridor, Bucky-is-sad-hyper-senses having activated. Steve tilted his head at Bucky in silent question as Sam saluted and left them to say goodbye, following the long-gone Clint and Wanda.

~~

 **Back to the present** As Steve slammed his apartment door with no mishaps so far and breathed a sigh of relief whilst Peter was preoccupied with gazing around Steve’s studio with wide eyes. Steve dragged a hand down his face, making a mental note to ironically lecture the kid on how it probably wasn’t a good idea to walk into random apartments. But the kid seemed pretty confident he was a good judge of character, so Steve left him to it.

Steve wanted to kick himself. How could be stupid enough to come back here? Let alone drag a fifteen-year-old with him into a potential snake pit.

Peter was becoming more and more animated despite the blood-loss, Steve couldn’t tell you why or how, but he was glad all the same. Peter kicked his legs up onto the coffee table just as Steve had asked, ready to disinfect and wrap the cut. The cut didn’t seem anywhere near as bad as it did earlier, and Steve supposed maybe it was all the blood.

And so here they were, sitting in clear view of a probably sniper-infested window, drinking juice boxes, Peter going to town on some energy bars.

“Hey Steve?”

Steve blinked up in surprise and hummed in question at the kid.

“How comes you’re so skittish? I won’t tell anyone I came here if that’s what you want.”

Steve grimaced, “Kid, that makes it sound so much worse than it is.”

Peter grinned, “Sorry. I just meant you don’t have to worry about my angry aunt knocking down your door. Besides, this’ll be all healed up by the time I-”

Peter halted, and Steve raised an eyebrow,

“I’m not a medic Pete, but I’m almost 100% that’s not how it works.”

“Yeah.” Peter said, squeaky, “Yeah you’re right.”

~~ 

Sam stared incredulously at Steve and the random kid from the roof opposite Steve’s apartment.

Okay, so maybe Sam had ignored his own advice and put a tracker in Steve’s phone. But there was no need to worry Bucky about his ‘supply run’, and Sam figured he and Steve weren’t close enough yet for this to be constituted as creepy.

“What the fuck?” He muttered to himself, “Our stray is picking up strays.”

At least there was no sign of Hydra at the moment, that was a small blessing. Sam started reversing across the roof when he saw the pair get up and head towards the door.

~~

“Seriously! I’ll be fine to walk. I _promise.”_

Steve sighed, giving into the kid’s optimism.

“Fine. But just… Look, Pete. Just don’t come back here, okay?” Steve glanced around but had a hunch he was doing a shitty job of surveying the area.

The look Peter gave him was like a punch to the gut. It was liked Steve had just told him to fuck off.

“I mean-” Steve huffed, trying to remedy the situation, “I just meant, okay not to freak you out kiddo, but… my neighbour’s… kind of have it in for me so I’m not living here at the moment.”

Steve was surprised, and a little proud, to see outrage written across Peter’s face as opposed to fear.

“No. Look, no. No confronting them. I’m serious Pete. These are _bad_ guys.”

Peter frowned.

Steve raised his eyebrows with his best, I am the adult look.

“Okay fine.” Peter grumbled.

Steve sighed again, rummaging in his pocket, before holding out his artist business card.

“Here’s my number. Got it? If you need help again you can call me.”

Peter looked up at him sceptically.

“Seriously. I will answer.”

The kid smiled then, taking Steve’s words at face value.

“See you round Steve.”

Steve waved as Peter hobbled off with what seemed like a very over the top limp, but he didn’t call him out on it.

A shiver suddenly ran through Steve, he looked up and couldn’t shake the feeling someone was watching him. Steve couldn’t help but get the impression that Bucky was right, he shouldn’t have left the tower. For a guy who had the outward emotion control of an electric kettle, Bucky sure as fuck new Hydra’s tac-tics. Steve shoved his hands into his pockets, trying to look casual, and dragged his feet along to the subway, kicking a few pebbles on the way. 

~~

Bucky was leaning against the wall outside the elevator on his floor when the doors pinged open.

“—SHIT!” Steve yelled, before hitting the deck. Bucky knew he’d left the tower and was waiting for him. And what brilliant idea did Steve have? Crouch down on the floor. Because yes, that made him invisible to all world-class assassins.

Steve floundered briefly, not occurring to him that Bucky had strolled over to block the elevator doors from shutting on Steve, sceptically wondering why a fully-grown man was frantically waving his hands to himself whilst squatting on the floor. Fuck. Steve could just stay here? Yes. Yes, well shit, he’d have to now. So, Steve gave up and plopped his arse down on the floor before looking up at Bucky with his sweetest expression and said,

“Please don’t tell me you’re not angry just disappointed?”

“Well, you’re alive. Which I guess is a plus.”

Steve bolted upright pushing up into Bucky’s face, “You guess is a plus!? Well, thanks for that, _Barnes.”_

“You have to admit that was pretty fucking stupid, _pal.”_ The last word dripped with sarcasm, echoing Steve.

“I’m not some princess locked in a tower!” Steve was getting pissed now, and he didn’t even care if he was about to face off to the Winter Soldier.

“Uh-huh. But you were about to be a kid locked in a Hydra facility.”

Steve saw red and didn’t even pick up on the chilling quietness of Bucky’s voice,

“You don’t get to say that! You don’t know where I went or if it was dangerous! And if you did? Well that’s even worse quite frankly. You forget that I’m not the Winter Fucking Soldier and I can’t just hide out away from civilisation for months on end. Don’t call me a kid because you know specifically it pisses me off. I’m like 2 years younger than you. No- Shut your mouth- don’t say you’re like a hundred years older than me. Because seriously I won’t date someone who constantly reminds me of their senior status!” Steve wasn’t even aware of what he was babbling on about by the time he stormed out to his room, he didn’t notice Sam on the sofa.

Bucky stared after the tornado that was Steve.

“So,” Sam started, “You could’ve handled that better.”

“Did he say he’d date me?”

“Seriously Barnes? _That’s_ what you’re focusing on here?”

~~

Steve scrappled with a bunch of pages he now regretted ripping out of his sketchbook. They totally weren’t drawings of Bucky. He wasn’t being petty. At all.

To be completely honest, his raged fuelled explosion at Bucky had to do with adrenaline more than anything else. He hadn’t realised till he got back that the whole time he’d been out of the tower he had been holding his breath. Waiting for the worst to happen. And oh god, what if he’d dragged Peter, some completely random kid into it too? How would he explain any of that to Bucky? If he’d even had the chance to talk to him again.

Steve encircled his arms around his knees where he sat in the centre of the huge double bed, feeling smaller than ever. He really didn’t feel good.

He just about managed to get to the toilet before throwing up the meagre amount of food he’d eaten that day. He flushed the chain, gave up and crawled into bed fully clothed.

~~

It’d been several hours since what Sam had named ‘The Face-Off’, and Bucky was starting to move from I-will-kill-Steve-Rogers-myself territory, into the is-Steve-Rogers-sad-I-must-find-him zone.

He decided to knock on Steve’s bedroom door, armed with a pot of Chinese take-out.

“Stevie?” he called softly, at no answer he risked pushing the door open slightly.

At seeing a sleeping Steve curled up in the foetal position, Bucky started to reverse, but not before Steve jerked upright,

“Iwasawake!” He blurted at nothing, then his eyes landed on Bucky and he scowled.

“I come with a peace offering.” Bucky started, trying his hardest not to piss Steve off more by laughing when Steve sniffed the air suspiciously.

“What’s the peace offering for then?”

Ah, Bucky thought, so the little shit wasn’t good at letting things go, figures.

“For having a go at you. Because I was worried. And… treating you like a child.”

Steve nodded, blushing to the tips of his ears,

“I’m sorry I got so pissy, I just… freaked out. I made it all the way to Brooklyn and back and didn’t, you know, die.”

“You went all the way to Brooklyn!” Bucky let out, “I’m _kidding._ Seriously. Stevie. Stop giving me the murder eyes.”

Steve looked up then, a glint of something in his eyes that made Bucky shiver,

 “ _those_ are my murder eyes, don’t look so turned on by them and come and sit on the bed.”

Bucky full on blushed.

Then so did Steve.

“What the fuck Bucky I was kidding.”

Bucky wanted to pull his hair out, taking in Steve’s befuddled expression,

“You seriously don’t know how hot you are, do you?”

Steve’s brain fucking glitched.

“Do- hyou- wanna,” Steve completely failed at creating a sentence.

Dear-lord, Bucky thought as he looked down at Steve, bashful Steve was the cutest thing he’d ever seen.

Bucky took pity on him and sat down on the bed.

Steve started shovelling noodles into his mouth, resolutely staring at the wall.

Bucky snorted and flicked the TV on before putting his arm, his metal one, bold move Barnes, around Steve’s shoulders. Steve froze for a fraction of a second before continuing to inhale the Chinese food.

They sat like that for a little while.

Bucky’s confidence, not that he’d had much in the first place, seemed to disappear gradually over the next half an hour. Proven by the next words he may as well have vomited on Steve’s lap,

“Who’s the somebody else you told Nat about!?” Bucky could hear the Soldat slow clapping somewhere in his head.

Steve frowned. “I don’t think I under—oh. Why did Nat accuse me of this in the first place?”

“I wasn’t accusing yo--” Well, yeah Bucky, you kind of are. Shit. Back down now, apologise, before you fuck this up even more Barnes.

“Answer the question, Steve.” FUCK! Why the hell did he just go into Winter Soldier mode? What the actual fuck Barnes. But Bucky couldn’t say any of these things out loud. He just sat, wide eyed, and quite frankly, terrified of what he’d just said.

Steve, grimaced, looking down into his Chinese, then back to stare at Bucky with those piercing blue eyes. He couldn’t bring himself to be pissed off. Deep down, Steve realised Bucky’s fear of isolation was just as monumental as his, even if not in the same way. Bucky had a lot going on in that head of his, he was still learning to deal in the aftermath of Hydra.

Come on Steve, he thought to himself, you know where this is going, now hurry up and react, like a normal human being before Bucky freaks out even more than he already has.

“There isn’t anyone else.” Steve leant forward as if to add sincerity, choosing his words carefully. When all that happened was Bucky’s shoulders relaxing, Steve felt the ground was strong enough to hold the weight of his question: “Why did you think that?”

Bucky licked his lips and swallowed, as if mentally preparing himself.

“That night, all that time ago, with you and Natasha, she told me… the reason you couldn’t sleep with her is because there was somebody else you were thinking of.”

Steve felt as though he’d been punched in the gut. So, ignoring all the fear and doubt pulling at him, he leant forwards to take _both_ Bucky’s hands:

“The other guy was you, Bucky. You charming dope. You reigned me in in five seconds flat. I want to do this,” Steve gestured between them,” with you and -I don’t mean the Chinese - but it does taste really good. Not that I’m in it for the Chinese. I don’t even like Chinese that much, I just--”

Bucky leant across the bed.

Well Shit. Steve thought, Bucky wasn’t kidding when he said he was a good kisser.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot happened in this chapter woah. It took like 5 hours.


	12. I need to flex my assassin muscles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The whole time Bucky had been trying to ignore the hefty medical file that sat on the desk next to him. But he was an assassin, it was ingrained in him. And the top sheet had slid out, screaming at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah, woah, woah! 15 days later and I'm back.  
> There’s lots of story cuts in this one. I don’t know why, but I hope they work.  
> Some more Clint and Natasha in this chapter! Ey!  
> PSA. I am not deaf, so I’ve done my best when writing this. I don’t mean to disrespect anyone, feel free to comment about it, as with anything else  
> 

Steve grumbled various responses to Bruce’s questions. He was being a reluctant asshole and wasn’t afraid to show it. Bucky blanched under his serious side-eye. The smooth mother fucker had waited till Steve was all soft and pliable before springing this on him like a mouse trap.

\--

Bucky adamantly avoided Steve’s glare. But he could still feel it, and it made him want to wriggle away like a giant worm. Tony had already felt the Wrath of Steve and had been extradited to Natasha who lay waiting in the corridor of the medical wing.

He didn’t get it. Steve had been so fucking cute and relaxed for once this morning. He even braved the kitchen on their floor, swamped in Bucky’s blue sweater. Bucky had praised all the deities he knew of that he’d managed to find Sam before Steve walked in, and adamantly explained to him they hadn’t had sex, and that if he made even the slightest comment Bucky wasn’t afraid to hurl him off the roof of the tower- wings or no. Sam had mercifully stayed quiet, ignoring Bucky’s threatening gestures when he grinned at Steve’s bedhead. And it all continued to run smoothly. But of course, this is Bucky we’re talking about.

_“Stevie, do you want blueberries with your pancakes or in it?” Bucky waited for a reply whilst Steve idly stared out the window, back to him and Sam from his seat on the sofa._

_“Steve?”_

_Bucky shared a side glance with Sam, who’d paused half way to the fridge. Bucky started to make his way over._

_“Stevie? You okay?”_

_Steve still didn’t respond. Didn’t even flinch, just continued to stare out of the window. So Bucky leant over the back of the sofa slightly to the left of Steve, loose hair dangling over his face._

_“Steve?”_

_Bucky had never seen him move so quickly as he let out a sound akin to a strangled cat before propelling himself across to the other side of the huge sofa._

_“WHAT THE FUCK BUCKY!? GIVE A GUY SOME WARNING!”_

_Sam just snorted at the incredulous look on Bucky’s face._

_“Jeez Louise, pal. I only said your name five hundred fucking times!” He felt like he had the right to be at least a little annoyed._

_And then immediately regretted it when Steve’s face fell._

_“What?” he said quietly, looking slightly shocked if anything and something else Bucky couldn’t name. Bucky stepped forwards into Steve’s space, pushing the baggy sleeves of his jumper back over Steve’s hands and wrists whilst rubbing his arms._

_“Doll,” He said, softer this time, “I did say your name a few times, I don’t think you heard me.”_

_Steve frowned, aggravated._

_“I did. I was just day-dreaming.”_

_He jumped slightly under Bucky’s hands, admittedly having forgotten Sam was there, when the man added to the conversation,_

_“Don’t make me call you out on your bullshit too, Steve. I have enough of that from Bucky alone. It’s like sifting through a dumpster of Trump tweets.”_

_“Fuck off Wilson.” Bucky retorted, but at least it got bit of a chuckle from Steve._

\--

Okay. So maybe this wasn’t Bucky’s elaborate plan to get him into the medical wing of the tower. But Steve was still pissed he currently had Doctor Cho, as she’d been introduced, sticking some horrendously oversized plastic thing into his ear.

He was trying not to freak out. Instead he focused all his anxiety into being pissed at Bucky. Focusing in on him like a wasp with a back-pack of MCD peptide.

Eventually Bucky announced he’d wait outside. Steve definitely didn’t want him to leave. Not that he’d voice that now, he was way too proud for that sue him.

He felt Bruce sigh from his left more than heard him.

“You should just tell him how stressful all of this is for you Steve.”

“What. I’m not stressed.” Steve said lamely. Bruce raised his eyebrows and hummed disbelievingly.

Steve groaned, and Doctor Cho stopped poking around in his head for a second,

“Sorry, did that hurt?”

“No! No. It’s just… no. It didn’t.”

She smiled way too nicely for a doctor in Steve’s experience. It made him slightly on edge.

“We just have a few more tests to do.”

\--

“James-”

Bucky froze guiltily, caught like a dear in headlights with a third protein bar half way to being shoved in his mouth. _DISPOSE OF THE EVIDENCE_ the soldat screamed at the wrappers dumped on the chair next to him.

“Um, I w’s’nt…s’r’m…” Bucky tried around a mouthful of granola.

Bruce just chuckled from where he stood in the corridor and shook his head,

“It’s fine, Bucky, Super Serum, stressful morning, I get it.”

Bucky finally managed to get down the snack that was determined not to be eaten.

“Steve wants you with him whilst Doctor Cho talks him through the plan of action.”

Bucky couldn’t speak again, and it wasn’t the protein bar, so he just nodded frantically and followed Bruce along the corridor.

Steve looked even smaller than usual, all hunched up in the chair in the medical assessment room. He looked up, blue eyes shining with worry instead of defiance for once. Bucky wanted to haul him over his shoulder and carry him back upstairs.

Bucky tried to focus on what the Doctor was saying, this was important information, but it was hard to do that with Steve’s leg jigging up and down like crazy, his enhanced hearing picking up on Steve’s hazy breathing. Something about sensorineural hearing loss… permanent damage… likely caused by some other medicine Steve had to take somewhere along the line.

Steve’s leg was going to fall off at the rate he was tapping it. He took in a sharp inhale when Bucky placed his palm on his thigh, like Bucky had grounded him enough to remember to actually take in oxygen. God, what this guy was having to deal with, has had to deal with, and it just keeps piling up.

The whole time Bucky had been trying to ignore the hefty medical file that sat on the desk next to him. But he was an assassin, it was _ingrained_ in him. And the top sheet had slid out, screaming at him.

_‘Scoliosis_

_Arrythmia, Heart palpitations, High blood pressure_

_Past Rheumatic Fever, resulting Stomach Ulcers_

_Pernicious Anaemia_

_Past Scarlett Fever_

_Common Sinusitis_

_Asthma_

_Fatigue_

_Anxiety’_

Jesus Christ, Stevie, was all Bucky could comprehend.

He tried to tune back into the conversation where Steve had begun speaking so softly,

“Maybe that’s the best option then.”

Cho nodded warmly,

“I do think that it is the way to go Steve. It is a lot, and it will take your brain time to adjust to the new information, but we’ll jump that hurdle when we get to it. And it’s important to note they won’t restore your hearing- they give you better access to sounds and speech.”

Steve nodded silently.

No one said anything until they were out in the corridor and Stark magically appeared to pat Steve on the back.

“You did good, Steve. It’s hard to accept help. Trust me, I know. But I’ve contacted the best audiologists and we’ll hook you up with some Stark tech way smoother than Barnes’ arm here before you know it.”

Steve’s mouth quirked up, but Bucky could tell it wasn’t a smile.

“Remember it’s an arm familiar with the contours of your face.” Bucky whispered to Tony as they headed for the elevator.

\--

 “Come ‘ere.” Bucky finally sighed at Steve. He’d been watching him zone out at the dishwasher, plate in hand, for almost five minutes.

Steve didn’t move at all besides flicking his eyes up to give Bucky the evils again, hand still in mid-air.

“God, you’re such a hard-ass.” Bucky grumbled, deciding to just do the job himself and pull Steve the couple of feet towards him.

“No, I’m not,” Steve dug his head into Bucky’s chest on purpose, “I’m just sad.”

Well, Bucky didn’t expect that at all, but it sure as hell snapped his heart in half.

“Oh, Stevie.” Bucky ran his hands through Steve’s hair whilst the blonde wrapped him arms tighter around Bucky’s waist, and would completely deny the sniffle he let out later.

\--

Bucky pulled back from their admittedly heavy make-out, red high on his cheekbones, to check in. Steve looked beautiful. With a blush creeping up his neck he worried his bottom lip, bashful- something Bucky didn’t think he’d ever see.

Dropping his head to Steve’s shoulder in a huff of laughter, Bucky looked up through the hair falling in his eyes.

“Do you wanna...” Steve gestured loosely between them, slightly annoyed they’d stopped in the first place.

“Nah. I’m good.” Bucky smirked.

Steve stopped, frowning for a milli-second before picking his drink off the coffee table and smirking into it, “Oh. I see how it is.” He slung his arm onto the back of the sofa and sunk into it, “We could spend the next hour or so playing scrabble or something?”

Bucky widened his eyes and huffed out a breath, muttering “Fuck.” Not expecting Steve to counter point. This was Steve for god sake, how had he ever thought that.

“Touché.” Bucky countered, snatching Steve’s drink. He stood to down it in one, slamming it back down with gusto and a shit-eating grin that made Steve instantly suspicious.

“If I may?” Bucky mock-bowed and extended Steve a hand to take. He laughed as Bucky pulled him up. He felt a little disbelief. This was the longest Bucky had been, well, himself, without at least a glassy eyed look into the distance or something. He was letting go of his usual contained demeanour around other people for relaxed playfulness. He’d seen glimpses of it before, but this was Bucky _happy_. Steve suddenly felt overwhelmed with affection, pulling him into another kiss, cupping his face between his hands, really, really trying to convey just how much this meant to him.

 “Stevie…” Bucky breathed, their faces just inches apart.

Voice suddenly gruff, he leant his forehead against Steve’s, “Do you trust me?”

Steve nodded in reply, wary.

“Let’s go anywhere you want, right now. Let’s just disappear for a bit… and I know you’re freaked out about Hydra- don’t tell me you’re not. You don’t have to be so tough all the time Stevie. Not around me, I will always take you seriously. Just let me take you out somewhere. Please? I need to flex my assassin muscles.”

Steve snorted, “I don’t think you’re quite aware how creepy ‘assassin muscles’ sounds.”

Bucky prodded him in the chest.

“It’s just a coupl’a goons.”

God did Steve love it when that Brooklyn lilt rolled into something even more 40’s, but hell did he feel awful. It’d been a whole week since he’d found out about Red Skull and not told Bucky. It was radio silence from Natasha. Steve had been avoiding thinking about it with all his might, but if he backed out now, Bucky would know something else was up.

“The park?” Steve blurted, the first quiet place coming to mind. Bucky’s lips quirked up at the simplicity of it.

As the two left the tower and wound through all sorts of random side streets, Steve began to actually process what was happening, but Bucky was a warm, solid presence at his side. He knew what he was doing. This was the Winter Soldier. This was Bucky. Holding his hand.

Was Steve suddenly mentally screeching and chanting that this was the best human he’d ever dated? Maybe, who could tell. This was the most kind, brave, intelligent man he had ever met. And he was a man who returned his feelings. The fog of Hydra related thoughts had begun to filter out he felt so high. Perhaps part of it was due to Bucky’s calming voice asking him about where he normally likes to go, or Bucky's chuff of a held back laugh as he leant down to kiss the side of a clearly-not-listening Steve’s head. Either way he was floating like a kite and could not stop staring at the man beside him.

 

\---- 

Natasha apologised profusely to the by-passer for randomly stopping in a bustling corridor- slipping his stolen phone back into his pocket. Stepping towards his office, latte in hand, he waved Natasha off, muttering something about interns taking up the whole goddamn corridor.

Removing her own phone from her jeans pocket, Natasha looked at the transferred key codes and schedule.

She headed back toward the stairs, heading downwards to the floor below that had a blind spot by the elevator, and headed up from there to the boardroom floors.

“- Rumlow’s right. It won’t work.”

Natasha stopped as close as she could to the glass window wall of the conference room.

“We do not have time for an insurance. We need to run this now.” A thick German accent demanded.

“B-but, the Winter – eh, Soldat was a remarkable specimen. The likely hood anyone else would survive the serum is-”

“I did not ask you! Doctor! If you are more nuisance than use I will not hesitate to dispose of you.”

A fourth voice joined into the fray,

“A lot of people are out for this… _candidate_. I can’t say my buyers would be best pleased if you come up empty han-”

“Then why not retrieve the original asset-”

The heavy, cold German voice halted all conversation,

“The. Asset. Has been. Compromised. He simply needs to be eliminated. For years we waited in the ground for the perfect opportunity to create an even more powerful weapon than the Asset. And now, we have it. The world thought we were gone. But they forget: cut off it’s head and two more shall grow in its place. Hail Hydra!”

Before the others could address in return, Natasha was already in the elevator.

\----

Having been in the shooting range downtown for most of the afternoon, Clint was glad to finally get out in the open and breathe some air. The temptation had been to walk to the tower, taking glee in inducing Bucky in a strop by getting him a creamy coffee he almost certainly loved but would pour down the sink to keep up appearances. Although, Clint had learnt his lesson from the last time Bucky punched him in the leg and Sam had had to piggy-back him to medical.

Grabbing a coffee a few streets away, he sat drumming his fingers on the table. The day had left him feeling lighter than all the craziness of the weekend and his ongoing search with Sam and Wanda, having set them all back into their Avengers routine. Not that he was one to crave it, but some normalcy at the range was nice when there remained an underlying bubble of tension in everyone’s chest. Hell, he’d only seen Steve a few times, they all had really. In all honesty, he was more surprised by Bucky’s immediate attachment to Steve than his own. Clint had always been a good judge of character, maybe it was something he picked up on growing up in a world exposed to all kinds of shady-ass characters. Nat liked him, that was a good indicator as any.

Clint snapped out of his thoughts to the ringing of his phone, and the only bad photo ever taken of Natasha lighting up on the screen.

“I take it you're either back, or you’ve really, _really_ blown your cover.”

“We need to meet. Now.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shalalalala why oh why.
> 
> I'm pretty excited for where this is going :D
> 
> enjoy, ily all.


	13. The past is the past, except when it’s not.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I may seem like I’m angry on the surface,” Bucky smiled as Steve continued, “But deep inside, I’m actually angrier.”  
> “What the fuck?” Bucky whispered to himself, hand hanging limply in the air as Steve stomped off.  
> “Aw, Stevie, seriously!?”  
> \--  
> Stucky go on a date. Steve has self-esteem issues. Bucky’s convinced he’s messed up. And something bad has happened to Peter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is me trying to be productive XD.  
> [I’ve changed the rating to mature as there’s more discussion of sex. Nothing graphic or anything.]  
> \--  
> 

Steve pulled Bucky along behind him by the shirt hem,

“Come on! It’ll be fun. I didn’t buy this packet of seeds for nothing.”

Bucky chuckled, catching up with Steve and pressing a kiss to his temple.

Steve being Steve, Bucky supposed he wasn’t that surprised how much he’d fallen for the ferocious blonde after all. He adamantly refused to think they were going too fast. All that had occurred was some heavy making-out sessions. If he wasn’t a former brain-washed assassin and Hydra weren’t after them, there’s _no way_ they’d be living together (Jesus, that sounded ridiculous even to his own ears). Hell, Bucky probably would have jumped ship already if he didn’t have something forcing him to speak to Steve when he wasn’t on a mission.

 _Way to be a romantic Buck_ , 40’s Sargent Barnes sassed at him from somewhere inside his head.

Granted, he hadn’t dated in a while- understatement of literally a century. Let’s face it. He’d been a womanizer, if a polite one, in the forties. And fucking around in random bars when he’d begun to feel marginally stable since being back decidedly did not count.

He went on a date around the year and a half mark, courtesy of Natasha.   _(_ _“A wild Barnes emerges from hermit-dom and sexually frustrated hibernation, ready to stalk through the wilderness like the true grumpy cat he his._ _”_ as Tony had so kindly put it) He thought he did alright personally- discounting the rather awkward and unsuccessful nature of said date. He just couldn’t seem to shake the Winter-Soldier-voice for the first six months. Oh wait. The Asset didn’t have a voice, and apparently liked to revert to that when he attempted anything other than sex. He basically went with one-night stands and casual ‘relationships’ after that. It was probably a tie between the best decision he’d ever made, and the decision that made him want to drink a whole liquor store and never speak to anyone again.

The reality was he hadn’t been expecting Steve to come along. Heaviness returned to his shoulders as Bucky was reminded of his past, both with and without Hydra. He needed to talk to Steve.

Steve who was currently hurling seeds at ducks- apparently bread is terrible for them, who’d’ve thought? My God Steve was simultaneously hot and adorable, Bucky had no coping mechanism for this.

“Take a picture! It’ll last longer!” Steve hollered, grin sliding onto his features as he turned to see Bucky staring absentmindedly, before turning back to crouching and quacking at some approaching ducklings.

Bucky should have been balking at the idea of dating Steve, of Steve trusting him, but he simply didn’t care. There was nothing as charming and thoughtful as Steve, he just slid right into place alongside the Avengers, as though he’d always been there. That had been another stick in the dating machine Bucky supposed. Of the few in Bucky’s dating pool (more like a puddle) that could actually stand him, realising he was the Winter Soldier was the ultimate no-no. Or they just wanted to fuck him for an in with the Avengers. Both his past and present were a black mist, tangling him up and suffocating him.

Bucky stood from the bench he was perched on, swallowing the sudden influx of tangled emotion down as he approached Steve at the edge of the pond. Just as he reached out to touch Steve’s elbow, the rest happened very quickly.

Steve dropped the empty plastic bag of seeds onto the pond. Leaning forwards to pick it up, his foot shunted and slid through the mud, propelling him forwards into a small crowd of screeching ducks. As his right leg plunged into the water, Bucky missed his elbow and watched in abject horror as Steve’s legs somehow ended up in the air- so stupidly, in panic Bucky grabbed a skinny ankle, which helped in absolutely no shape or form as Steve successfully face-planted the water.

Spluttering, coughing up both water and seeds, Steve’s head bobbed up from the water. Bucky dumbfoundedly still clutching his ankle.

“Great reflexes. Winter Soldier my ass.” Steve muttered

Bucky frowned, but couldn’t ignore his mouth turning up at the corners as he pulled some pond-weed from Steve’s hair. Splashing his way into the water, he scooped Steve up under the armpits and set him on his feet. Blush as red as anything, Steve raised his chin defiantly and stalked out of the water, “I got the bag.”

“Would you rather me leave you in a freezing cold lake for the next few decades?”

Bucky had to hold back his laughter as Steve stalked off towards the path.

As Bucky caught up to him, he put an arm around the smaller man’s shoulders, not caring if it soaked through his coat. Steve didn’t look up.

“Hey, Stevie, come on! I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.”

Steve ignored him, carrying resolutely on down the path.

“Steve,”

He stopped and turned to glare up at Bucky.

Bucky gently tilted Steve’s chin up and gave him a once over.

“I may seem like I’m angry on the surface,” Bucky smiled as Steve continued, “But deep inside, I’m actually angrier.”

“What the fuck?” Bucky whispered to himself, hand hanging limply in the air as Steve stomped off.

“Aw, Stevie, seriously!?”

-

After a minute, he decided leaving a soaking wet, probably freezing, and currently on Hydra’s hitlist Steve on his own probably wasn’t the greatest idea of all time and jogged after him.

He found Steve sitting under a near by tree, puffing in his remarkably dry inhaler.

Bucky swore to himself before taking off his jacket to drape around Steve and plopping down next to him.

“I can take care of myself you know.” Steve wheezed, gritting his teeth and trying not to sound pathetic.

Bucky snorted, “I realised that when I first met you. Just… let me help?”

“I mean, I’m pretty chilly…”

Bucky was beginning to learn that this was Steve’s I’m-not-so-innocent-after-all face.

“My hands are cold let me put them in your pants.”

 But before he could even register what Steve had said, Steve had shoved his freezing-cold arms around Bucky’s waist and under his shirt, shaking his sopping wet hair into Bucky’s face.

Bucky did not squawk. The Soldat does not squawk.

~~

Bucky bumped his knee against Steve’s and tilted his head in question; the meek smile he received in return prompted him to continue rubbing circles onto Steve’s back.

“I’ll be alright, honestly.” He said finally, “I think I just bumped my ribs more than I realised when I hit the pond floor. Adrenaline wore off.”

He shrugged, wincing as he regretted the action.

“Want me to take a look?”

“No!” Steve jumped, cringing internally at how his reaction must come across, preparing for some line of inquiry. But Bucky simply raised his eyebrow, followed by a kiss to the temple and an arm pulling Steve into his shoulder. After a minute Bucky whispered,

“We should probably get you a change of clothes and warm you up. You look like a sad puppy.”

Steve stuck his tongue out and took Bucky’s hand to stand up.

 --

After a brief visit to a thrift store (“No Bucky. I’m not wearing a sparkly sweater. Stop fake crying.”), Bucky ushered them into a quiet coffee shop, assuring Steve he could carry their order just fine whilst he went to the bathroom.

Steve double checked the door was locked properly and began to strip his top half. He coughed sharply with the intake of air from lifting his arms over his head. With a groan he rolled his shoulders, carefully breathing in and popping his spine and shoulders. He winced as he turned in the mirror.

The whole of his left side bloomed with purple bruises, the epicentre where his ribs jutted out harshly on one side in comparison to the other following the twist and curve of his spine. Steve hissed as he traced down to his wonky hips and sighed with frustration. He’d almost forgotten about this level of pain, but now he was warm his ribs were so unbelievably tender.

At least at the Stark tower guests didn’t sleep on sofas.

Fuck.

It’s not like Bucky didn’t know. Even if Steve hadn’t caught him peaking at his medical file, he’s a fucking assassin. Was an assassin. Steve’s posture would have been a dead giveaway to him.

Steve groaned in frustration, jumping to a soft knock at the door.

He scrambled to cover himself, but the door didn’t unceremoniously swing open, instead Bucky’s deep voice called softly from behind it, “Been in there a while, you okay?”

“Come on Buck, I’m never gonna hear that.”

“Just checking you’re okay. Do you need anything?” Bucky spoke louder.

A straight spine and functioning fucking body, Steve wanted to sob, “I’m alright, just bruised a bit I think. Be out in a minute.”

“Okay.”

A pause.

 “Do you want me to call Bruce?”

“No, I’ll be alright. But thank you.”

Another pause.

“I got one of those marshmallow stirrer things. Do you want half?”

Steve smiled to himself.

“That would be great.”

He took a deep breath and pulled on the thrift hoodie, even if his brain was panicking and telling him to not leave the room.

~

Steve paused a few tables away.

It was hard to believe Bucky was a weapon of Hydra. Or is the Winter Solider at all.

Bucky looked like he belonged in the warm glow of this coffee shop, nestled in amongst various hipsters, book-readers and old ladies. He was engrossed in trying and failing to cut a marshmallow in half. The sticky gloop sticking to the knife, his tongue poking out in concentration and frowning in slight annoyance. He looked, almost, relaxed, rare for him- something Steve had already picked up on- happy with one quick scan of their surroundings when they entered.

Steve beamed with warmth.

A cough from a blushing Bucky ( _good lord)_ brought Steve back to the moment. Of him. Standing in the middle of a coffee shop.

Fuck it, he thought. Discretion is a ship that has sailed my friend.

He sauntered over to where Bucky sat.

“Hm?” He looked up at Steve, still blushing.

Steve quirked his mouth and shrugged, “Just admiring this beautiful man I saw.”

He leant down to kiss Bucky, who had somehow flushed an even deeper red. It was soft, gentle.

He had missed this, Bucky thought as he curled his hand into Steve’s hair. After a moment, Steve plopped down onto the chair opposite him.

“Dammit, I don’t have a cushion. I’m gonna go find one. My butt hurts after that… unprecedented swim.” Steve deadpanned.

Bucky snorted in response.

He felt so at ease in a public place, he couldn’t believe it. He thought back to the last time he hadn’t been obsessed with scoping a place out. Then realised he couldn’t find one.

The awfulness of the realisation bounced around his skull. He’d had his brain turned inside out for fuck sake. He split himself into three separate people. When was he not going to be fucked up. He was as emotional as a rusty kettle, he was so incapable of coming across as a normal, sincere human being.

 _“_ _Wipe Him_ _!”_ Rang around his head. He frowned into his cup of tea. Any of their voices were enough to make him want to strangle someone. She felt like a shard of ice ripping through his conscious. She’d told him he was pitiful.

He swilled the tea around its mug.

~~

Steve triumphantly retrieved a cushion, only to turn and see Bucky hunched over the table. He wore that same vacant expression. He walked over, gently threading his fingers through Bucky’s.

“Hey, you,” he said in hushed tones, “Anything you want to talk about?”

Bucky thought for a minute, weighing up his options.

“Just… things playing on my mind, dredging up things I’d rather forget. Ironic considering how long I spent trying to remember,”

Steve hummed in reassurance for him to continue, but Bucky cut him off.

“Stevie, your phones ringing.”

Steve frowned, digging around in his pocket, racking his brain of anyone that would be calling him.

His gut twisted at the caller I.D.: Peter Parker

Steve unlocked his phone and turned the volume up as high as it would go.

“Hey Pete. Everything okay?”

It wasn’t. Steve knew in his gut it wasn’t as soon as he picked up the phone.

“…Steve-”

Peter’s voice cracked. Bucky frowned at Steve’s gritted jaw.

“I-I’m really sorry,” Fuck. The kid had been crying, “I didn’t know who else to call, and – and-”

“Pete, try to breathe. What happen-”

Bucky’s eyes widened when Steve grabbed a handful of his own hair and scrapped his chair back across the floor.

“I went back to your apartment! I know I shouldn’t have! It’s just, your neighbours, it’s so unfair- and I thought- I’m sorry! This isn’t even your problem, it’s my fault-”

“Kid, it doesn’t matter.” Steve managed to get out, “Tell me where you are and-”

“I don’t know.” Peter almost whispered, Steve couldn’t make out what he said.

“What?”

“I don’t know where I am!” Peter yelled, frantic now, “I can’t figure ou-”

The line went dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -  
> -  
> -  
> -  
> oooooooo spoooooky  
> :D


	14. Be our Guest, Be our Guest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter wanted to cry with disbelief when he dug in his back pocket to find his mobile still there. What kind of absolute moron kidnapped someone and didn’t check them for communication or weapons? It was a bloody miracle and he thanked every deity he could think of that if the henchmen were this stupid he might get out after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I just added this chapter to the wrong fucking fic!! Those people are going to hate me oh my god I haven't updated that one in so long!)
> 
> Hello! I’m back, sorry it’s been longer then I said a new chapter would be. I’ve been anxious about writing it.  
> And instead of describing my week, I just knocked a new rare-ish plant off my windowsill, filling my bed and covering my floor with soil. -_- Send help!

Peter was so upset with himself. He couldn’t possibly see how this had happened. No one on his watch list was even close to figuring out a way to catch him, let alone discover his identity.

But here he was. Not that he had the faintest clue where _here_ was.

Peter rested his head back against what he assumed was a wall. He’d scoped out his current space as much as he could with his feet and hands tied together, he couldn’t risk breaking the bonds with his strength again, they’d notice. The room was roughly four by four metres. A reinforced metal hatch, half the size of a normal door, the only entrance. It had a small, sealed slot presumably for food. And it was freezing.

That was it. Even with super senses, you can’t see through doors. You can’t see in complete and utter darkness.

Peter shivered and curled up on himself further.

Breathe, Peter, Breathe.

He pushed his head into his folded arms and tried to play back what he could remember since regaining consciousness.

_The bag was still over his head, hands tied. He listened. There was no one else in the room, just two men in the echoey corridor outside._

_Peter figured they’d put the snapped hand ties down to crappy knot skills as he tore the bag from his sweaty head and tried desperately not to panic as he took in his surroundings. An old lab. table missing, shitty rusted equipment trays still in place._

_Oh God. They knew he was Spiderman and were going to experiment on him. Use his blood, or something equally horrible. ‘Shut up Peter,’ he scolded himself, ‘Not the time to be dramatic. If they knew you were Spiderman they would have strapped you down with more than rope.’ He tried to will his imagination away._

_The image of his backpack slung behind Steve’s sofa floated through his mind. Hopefully his bad Parker luck hadn’t applied for a few microseconds, enough for his captors to think it was Steve’s and leave it behind._ Everything _was in there. Except his phone._

_His phone!_

_Peter wanted to cry with disbelief when he dug in his back pocket to find his mobile still there. What kind of absolute moron kidnapped someone and didn’t check them for communication or weapons? It was a bloody miracle and he thanked every deity he could think of that if the henchmen were this stupid he might get out after all._

_The thought of calling the police did briefly cross his mind, but he doubted if they would believe him. Where would he even begin? Would he even get past the operator before his captors heard? What could they even do anyway? No. His best bet was to call Steve. With any luck he would know something more about his ‘neighbours’, maybe where they were based, or at least who to start asking. Assuming they were the ones who took Peter. It made sense if they were watching the apartment like Steve had warned him. Peter would look like an easy target. The cops wouldn’t even know to speak to Steve in the first place! All they would do was ask Aunt May. God, Aunt May!_

_Before he could stop them, tears started streaming down Peter’s face, making him angry at himself and more panicky by the second._

_He was meant to be Spiderman. He was meant to be able to handle scenarios like this. But he’d never been the kidnap-ee, he was always the rescuer, bolstered by his mask, the knowledge he could get people out. But he didn’t even know where he was! Let alone fight his way out, not without revealing his alter-ego._

_He was holding a mobile phone for god sake and he couldn’t get his head steady enough to function. His vision was swimming all over the place and-_

_Peter lifted his hand to his head and winced when he met the deep, tacky gash at his hair line._

_Head. Right._

_Maybe he deserved a bit of leniency then. Oh man did he want to carry on crying._

_“Come on Spiderman.” Peter whispered to himself._

_He unlocked his phone and saw he had signal of the bare minimum. Not too deep underground then, and not too far from civilisation._

_He hit dial, eyes on the door, and wondered how long he had._

_Please pick up. Please pick up. Please pick up._

_“Hey Pete. Everything okay?”_

_It wasn’t until Steve had spoken that Peter realised he couldn’t blurt out ‘hey I’m Spiderman so I could fight my way out but then they’d know who I was and I can’t kill them to keep them quiet because…’ But all he said was:_

_“…Steve-”_

_He was wasting precious seconds!_

_“I-I’m really sorry,” The tears were building again, what the hell was wrong with him, “I didn’t know who else to call, and – and-”_

_“Pete, try to breathe. What happen-”_

_He could hear Steve moving around on the other end of the line._

_“I went back to your apartment! I know I shouldn’t have! It’s just, your neighbours, it’s so unfair- and I thought- I’m sorry! This isn’t even your problem, it’s my fault-”_

_God Peter had fucked up._

_“Kid, it doesn’t matter.” Peter could hear someone else, Steve was with someone. “Tell me where you are and-”_

_“I don’t know.” Peter almost whispered, not wanting to face the truth._

_“What?”_

_“I don’t know where I am!” Peter yelled, frantic now, “I can’t figure ou-”_

_The door slammed open, one of the biggest men Peter had ever seen smacked the phone out of his hand. Peter squeezed his eyes shut and willed himself to act defenceless when the first hit came._

_\---------------------_

Clint winced, gripping his shoulder as they made their way along the Hydra base corridor, stepping over the various dead guards they’d circled back to.

“I’m tired of these constant near-death experiences.”

“Don’t be a whiney asshole, asshole.” Nat strode ahead of him, shoving away the body of some Hydra employee that had tried, and failed, to protect the ominous looking door they approached.

“Whatever.” He muttered, he accepted long ago that his sass to Natasha would be what killed him in the end.

Natasha booted the lock off the door and swung it open in lieu of a reply.

“Just start searching bird-brain.”

Clint made his way behind an ornate desk to the first of many filing cabinets.

“So. Lemme get this straight,”

Nat scoffed under her breath, “You? Straight? Unlikely.”

Clint simply smirked and continued whilst hauling out stacks of files and rifling through them, “You’ve been tailing a German source for weeks, who led you to a meeting where you discovered the fucking Red Skull and Zola were still alive?” Clint was admittedly sceptical about that being the whole truth, but if Nat was protecting someone, she had her reasons, “And the Winter Soldier is out of commission- clearly- so they’ve had Hydra hunting for a replacement this whole time whilst they were six feet under. Now they’ve found the prime candidate, and boom, resurrection time.”

“Precisely.” Was all Nat said in return, picking up the pace and barely glancing at each file.

Clint paused his search.

“What are we going to do when we find this ‘prime candidate’?”

Natasha stopped too, her hand tracing over the front of a file like she was marking it.

“We’ll do what’s needed to prevent Hydra, or anyone, from ever getting them.”

Clint’s chirpy ring-tone of ‘Breaking Free’ cut through the deadly pause in conversation.

“On a mission, Clint? Seriously?”

Natasha picked up the file.

“How can I take your order tod- What? You’ve got to be fucking kidding Buck,”

Natasha squirreled away the file before she could read the title inside:

**Project Rebirth**

_Subject:_ _Steven Grant Rogers._

 ----------------------

Steve paced the common room floor of the Stark Tower.

Fuck. Was that all his brain could seem to come up with? Any minute now the rest of the Avengers would show up and Steve would have to tell them all about his encounters with Hydra. What they were really up against- and he hadn’t even told Bucky. And this very second, anything could be happening to Peter. And it was his fault.

“It’s not your fault Steve. We’ll find him.”

Steve whirled around on Bucky who was currently sat on a kitchen stall.

“Like hell it isn’t! How can you say that with such conviction? How the fuck are you so calm about this? What is wrong with you!?”

Air caught in Steve’s throat at the hurt that flickered across Bucky’s expression, and how habitually well it was covered.

Steve rubbed his jaw, “I didn’t-”

“Yeah, yeah, you didn’t mean it.” Bucky muttered.

As fast as it appeared, Steve’s need to apologise disappeared again and the thought moved on when the elevator doors pinged open to reveal Wanda and Tony.

“Does someone want to tell me why the hell there’s a kidnapped kid on your watch Barnes?” Tony stormed in.

“What the fuck Stark?” Bucky growled, standing from his chair.

Wanda rushed forward, a placating hand on Tony’s arm, “That’s hardly fair Tony.”

“Damn it.” Is all he said, but looked imploringly at Bucky nonetheless.

“Whatever.” Bucky grunted before explaining, as far as he could anyway, the situation.

Steve felt awful, and Wanda knew it. Steve knew she could read minds, but he found he didn’t mind so much as his anxiety seeped away a little under her gentle eye contact.

“I know I shouldn’t have taken him there,” Steve spoke up, suddenly ready to defend his actions.

Tony glanced at him, and then at Bucky’s challenging glare.

“Cool it Frosty. It wasn’t your fault Steve, you tried to help a kid, even if he sounds mighty suspicious to me.”

Steve felt a hot flush of anger reach his face, “And what might you be suggesting Tony?”

Tony sighed at the trio of glowers he received.

“What? You don’t think its slightly suspicious a hurt kid turns up right by Steve’s apartment- rebellious trip on your part by the way Stevie Wonder- willingly wanders into Steve’s apartment and returns, is kidnapped would you believe, and then calls Steve of all people for a rescue?”

A slightly awkward pause fills the room.

“He’s not lying. He’s a kid Tony. You- You didn’t hear how scared he was.” Steve swallowed.

Bucky looked thoughtful “He’s a smart kid.”

“And how did you glean that exactly, from never even seeing him?” Tony raised an eyebrow.

Bucky crossed his arms, gesturing with his right hand, “He realised he had limited time for a phone call- a few seconds at most. He’d have to get past the 911 operator, to cops who would likely have no reason to connect Steve to the scenario- he didn’t even mention him to his mum or whatever-”

“Aunt.” Steve cut in. Bucky eyed him strangely and continued, “He was at Steve’s, he knew it was whoever’s got it in for him, the person with the most likely knowledge to find him the fastest is Steve.”

“And I don’t even have a fucking clue!” Steve let out a strangled cry.

“We need a trace on the phone call.” Wanda stated calmly as ever.

“Speaking of trace, Nat’s still M.I.A. Fuck knows where Clint is. Sam is on a mission. Thor’s off-world. Bruce’s at a conference in South America.” Tony finished, picking up his phone to do who knows what.

“Great. So that leaves the three of us.” Bucky growled.

“Well, fucking thanks for that inclusion.” Steve snarked at Bucky, chest heaving with barely contained rage.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Let me just grab you a gun and years’ worth of field training.” Bucky was lost in the desperation of the situation.

“Of course! I forget everything comes down to my ability to shoot someone in the head. The only redeeming quality of a person.”

Bucky’s nostrils flared as he turned towards Steve, shoulders squared and jaw set. It was the most Steve had ever been intimidated by him, but he wasn’t about to back dow-

“Woah there kiddos.” Tony stepped in front Steve, his back to Bucky, he couldn’t help but notice, hands out in a stopping gesture, “There’s only room for one sarcastic drama queen on this team. And that would be me.”

Before the conversation could escalate the elevator pinged open again and in marched Clint and Natasha, looking a little worse for wear.

“What’s the plan?” Clint said at the same time that Natasha said; “I’ve tracked his phone. Typical disused lab scenario. Shitty security. Contraband drop point. No Hydra.”

“What?” Everyone else spoke at once.

“How can it not be Hydra?” Wanda asked.

Natasha made eye contact with Steve.

“My guess is that someone else found out about Steve being with us. Headed to his apartment and grabbed Peter instead of Steve.”

“Why!?” Steve exclaimed. “Why the hell are all these slap-heads interested in me? I’m not exactly worth anything?”

Bucky’s hardened expression at Steve dropped then, not that anyone noticed, something quiet and hurt taking its place.

Tony made a strange grimace, “Well, I guess strictly that’s not true.”

“If you tell me I’m secretly a prince or your second cousin, I will kill you at this point Tony.” Steve whirled on him.

“I’m gonna be honest. At this point Steve, I would pay up however much it took to get you back.”

Steve swallowed, cheeks reddening. He didn’t know what to say to that.

“You’re basically part of the Stark coop now Bella Donna.” Clint chirped.

Everything got side tracked in that moment as everyone turned to look at Clint incredulously.

“Bella Donna? Stevie Nicks album? Psshh, made sense in my head.”

\--

“Great. Just great.” Steve glared up at Bucky. All he could seem to do of late was glare.

“Don’t be like that before we leave, doll, we’ll be back soon- with Peter.” Bucky planted his glove covered hands either side of Steve’s neck. How did he get over arguments so quickly? It just pissed Steve off even more.

“So, what. He’s going to be faced with a crowd of Avengers as his rescue? How the hell do I explain that to him?”

“We’ll figure it out. You can’t come Steve… I’m not going to tell you not to leave the tower, but, please, just…”

“I don’t have a death wish Bucky.” Steve grumbled, giving up on his grudge slightly to kiss Bucky, their foreheads together.

“Just hurry up and bring him back, m’kay?”

Bucky just kissed him on the head and made his way up to the roof.

 -------------------------

Peter, despite holding back his strength, he scrabbled as much as he gaged was humanly possible when two men came to grab him out of the hatch. He wondered what kind of poor animal had been kept in there somewhere along the line. Certainly not spiders, his subconscious quipped.

So here he was, sat in yet another shitty, dilapidated lab room, facing the goons- one now sporting a black eye, and the other a bloody nose.

Peter couldn’t help the bouncing and bobbing of his legs, his excitement was building no matter how he tried to hide it. Peter Parker, not Spiderman, had managed to give these men a run for their money- even if it was pocket change. His confidence was coming back now, his somewhat enhanced healing taking the edge of his head wound. Adrenaline stopping him from feeling the most recent mishandlings.

He smirked at his guards. He was pulling every tac-tic in the book to come off as nonplussed and self-assured as humanly possible in his given situation. He’d decided against snarky comments so far, a little too much, although he had considered it at this level of crisis.

When the door to the room finally swung open Peter huffed out a lungful of air, swallowing his laughter as he gazed up at what he had expected to be a formidable foe. Don’t judge a book by its cover and all, but when a woman with chaotic hair stumbled in, Peter couldn’t tell whether she was drunk or just really confused by her surroundings.

She took one look at Peter and pouted dramatically, her relatively young blue eyes in stark contrast to the vibrant red of her hair.

“Why did you have to beat the poor kitty up?”

What the hell was going on? Peter was starting to find this a little less entertaining when the woman pounded her feet ungainly across the concrete like a child. Then came the click of a trigger, her arm swinging lazily and haphazardly around, gun way too limp in her grip.

Peter breathed through his nose. Cool and breezy. He’d had time to freak out, and now was decidedly not that time.

“Gentleman,” She tutted, slowly turning from the him to face the guards. “Is that any way to welcome an esteemed guest?”

The broader, bald man glanced doubtfully at his counterpart, before narrowing his eyes at Peter.

Peter jerked just as violently as the two fully grown men at the unexpected shot to the floor that echoed around the room, willing himself to breathe as the gun continued to be waved around.

In a failed attempt to lose her oddly bright eye-contact, Peter looked at the ground, only to be met with a Cheshire-cat grin as she bent beneath his face. Then he was being shoved ungracefully backwards with the chair he was tied to, only to meet the floor with a sharp crack at the back of his head.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She Crazy!!


	15. Four Words to Tear Down Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m not some fragile red room trainee you piece of shit.” Bucky spat,  
> “You knew too, Hawkeye… Sam,”  
> He glared at the screen that held his wingman,  
> “If you so much as had an inkling, I’ll fucking kill you.”
> 
> He said it with such cold force Steve feared he meant it.
> 
> All it would look like from his perspective was distrust. Distrust of his stability. Distrust of  
> him. Distrust of his fucking loyalty. The idea that Bucky would believe the team thought he had  
> some kind of lingering fealty to Hydra was enough to make Steve sick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eyyyy, I’m back.  
> I’ve started a pretty busy job in between days of classes so the updates’ taken longer than I wanted. I hope you enjoy it though. 
> 
> Tony stands up for Bucky which I  
> thought was sweet and enjoyed writing. Lots of drama.
> 
> CURRENTLY PROOF READING  
> I had to upload this on my phone because my WiFi isn't working, so please excuse me if there's a weird format. I will fix it soon.

Natasha was on edge to say the least.  
She stopped sharpening her blade and slid it, along with a taser, back onto her belt.  
The quinjet flight to the abandoned lab was a short one.  
She was an assassin. Practical. Not one to dwell on what-ifs? Knowing by now it got you nowhere. But as she walked across the jet floor, her mind began to wander.  
It had been too long since they’d had movement on Rumlow. He had to be tied to the resurrection  
of Red Skull somehow.

~~

The others had started to relax at the knowledge this wasn’t a Hydra hit, but something had begun to twinge in the back of Bucky’s mind. He wasn’t sure if it was the Soldat, or his gut instinct.  
If Bucky had learnt anything from his century on Earth, it was always listen to instinct.  
Peter being taken wasn’t completely unrelated. The circumstance was too close to Steve, even if its connection was convoluted. Somehow this linked to Rumlow, which in turn linked to Hydra. There was something much deeper going on here. And Natasha knew something.

He could see it in the turn of her thoughts. The set of her hips that held an almost imperceptible  
tension. She knew something, and she wasn’t telling him.  
Bucky took a deep breath, fists clenching against the flurry of memories that threatened to eat up  
his train of thought. He trusted Natasha with his life, but she wouldn’t keep something from him to  
protect his feelings, or to protect him at all for that matter. They had secrets, but this went beyond the  
two of them.

Bucky only succeeded in riling himself up further as he observed the other members of his team in the back of the quinjet. He wondered whether Wanda knew by default. He sometimes wondered how she filtered through all the bullshit in people’s heads.

But perhaps Natasha had a reason for  
keeping whatever she knew from the rest of the team. She wasn’t the type to care if the last person who heard the news about you was you. So that meant her intel was either incredibly personal or it could spook his friends enough to threaten the integrity of the team. Or both.

And what did that sound like? They’d all seen it in the papers back then, even without knowing it was Bucky at the time:

“Winter Soldier Strikes Again”.

“Pierce accused of War Crimes: Split of  
S.H.E.I.L.D.”.

“Mystery Hired Assassin”.

  
This was all Bucky’s fault, the Soldat. And for some reason they wanted Steve. He hadn’t tied Steve to him like a rock in the ocean after all. That bore some kind of selfish relief, that they hadn’t just grabbed Steve in a vain attempt at getting to Bucky.

Hydra wanted them separately. It was only by  
some divine intervention that Bucky had had the chance to protect Steve at least for a short while.

  
But it also meant Hydra weren’t going to give up.  
That struck Bucky cold beyond belief. Bucky was fucking thankful Hydra hadn’t found Steve a few years earlier, Steve would not have survived hit from Hydra. The attack would have come in another form even if the Soldat wasn’t being used as the battering ram- although to be frank, fate wouldn’t  
have wasted such an ironic opportunity. Bucky wouldn’t put it past the sick bastard.

  
Bucky shook his head, getting ready for landing.

  
At least if the goons that had Peter weren’t Hydra, then Natasha was right; Hydra wouldn’t be targeting Steve in the tower, because they didn’t even know the team wasn’t there.  
Bucky stepped off the quinjet to escape the stifling air.

  
~~

  
One thing Peter didn’t expect to be faced with when he blearily pried his eyes open was iron man, face plate down, big brown eyes looking at him with mounting concern.

  
“Hi… Mr. Stark?”

  
All he got in return was an exasperated eye roll before his world flipped again as the chair was righted.

  
“Jesus kid you took a pummel to the face.”

Peter gave him a toothy grin and-  
“Look out!”

Tony just managed to duck before a wild flash of red hair followed an attempted elbow to the head.

In a matter of seconds the flailing madwomen was pinned to the ground beneath Natasha, knife pressed to her throat.

  
“Tell me what Hydra wants with Rogers and it’ll end quickly.”

  
The fire went out of the gun-flailing maniac way faster than Peter had ever imagined. What the heck was she pumped up on?

  
“Hydrant?” She chirped up, disgustingly child-like.

  
“Don’t fucking mess around.”

  
Peter knew he was in deep shit when the Winter Soldier appeared from the shadows to crack his boot down onto the woman’s arm like it was nothing. He prayed they didn’t know he was Spider-man and that Steve was just the most unassuming superhero on the planet besides Peter himself and happened to know the Avengers.

But the confidence was gone from the woman’s voice now she didn’t have a gun and the Black Widow was straddling her hips.  
“I… um…”

  
“Better start talking, honey.” Tony was terrifying with emotionless sarcasm and Peter made a mental note to NEVER get on his bad side.

  
“I heard he’s worth money, this Steve kid!” She thrust her head in Peter’s direction, “All sorts’a weird and wonderful folk want their hands alllllll over him,” She practically purred.

  
Tony stood in front of Peter.

  
Another crunch of her arm prompted her to continue,  
“Over heard Rumlow we did! Jim, Rock and Me. Someone wants him alive. For a lot of money. That’s all I heard. All I needed to hear.”

  
Peter heard the Winter Soldier growl before sounds of the woman, who’d undoubtedly ruined his enjoyment of fireworks forever with her sporadic gun firing, being dragged from the room.

  
“So, kiddo,”

  
Peter startled slightly as Tony turned and placed his hand on his shoulder,

  
“How about we get you out of here and you tell us why exactly you thought it was a good idea to seek out some neighbouring thugs?”

  
Peter wanted to say something sassy like ‘So we’re still going with that cover, are we?” Or maybe completely blow the Avengers mind with his follow up statement ‘Have you heard of Spiderman?’

  
But all that he said was,

  
“Oh my God, it’s Iron Man.”

  
And then  
“Ned’s gonna have an aneurism.”  
\----------------------------------------------------------------  
Tony watched out of the corner of his eye as Peter huffed out a sigh and tipped his head back to the elevator ceiling, knees jigging up and down incessantly.

  
“My God kid, would you stop wriggling around? It’s like you have worms.”

  
Peter narrowed his eyes at Tony, but dramatically ceased to wiggle.

  
“What am I going to tell my aunt? Will she be okay?” suddenly Tony felt a thousand years old as two big brown Bambi eyes gazed up at him like he held all the answers in life.

  
Stepping out onto common room floor, Tony tried to add some buoyancy to the tone of his voice.  
“We’ve got agents watching your apartment 24/7. We simply explained the situation to her. You can call her whenever you want, but it’s probably best if you stay here for now.”

  
Peter visibly paled, Tony tried not to take too much offense.

  
Tony was a lot of things. He was a genius billionaire. He was Iron Man. Self-proclaimed  
philanthropist.

  
But one thing that he was not, was good with kids.

  
Oh man, the kid was going to cry. Or Tony was going to cry. Or Pepper would somehow find out with her omnipotent magical powers of magic and rip his fucking head off.

  
He shook his head, situation at hand Tony. Situation at hand.

  
But before he could come up with at least some semblance of a PG conversation, Steve was walking into the open room, halting at the sight of a bruised but alive Peter.

  
“Steve!” Peter seemed almost alarmed, a deer in headlights.

  
“It’s okay kiddo.” Tony pushed him forwards slightly. God, he really was Bambi.

  
“I’m sor-”

  
“Pete. It’s not your fault. What you did was stupid, but I can’t say I would’ve done anything different for one of my friends.”

  
Peter opened his mouth, highly aware that he should be speaking as he gawped at Steve. Tony felt bad for the kid, this clearly wasn’t what he’d rehearsed for in his head.  
There was a warm pause from both parties.

“I’m glad you’re okay.”

  
Then suddenly Peter was wrapped around Steve, clinging to him like a koala bear.

  
“I can show you around if you want?”

  
Peter smiled graciously as the easy atmosphere between them began to grow again.

  
“That would be great thanks.”

  
“… The others are heading down soon. We need to talk strategy heading forwards.”

  
The surprise on Steve’s face- that part Tony expected, but what he didn’t anticipate was theapprehension, the tensing.

  
Steve knew something the rest of them didn’t. And Tony knew it was far from good news.  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------

“So. Now we know for sure Rumlow is out for Steve in particular- and not just for ties to me and Nat. He's acting under Hydra orders.” Bucky stated his own, earlier suspicions to the rest of the group now that they knew forcertain.

“The question is, why is he so motivated to impress?” Tony spoke from the head of the table.

Steve wanted the floor to swallow him up. He was desperately glad he’d left Peter with Wanda in her room to talk about photography, because he was pretty convinced he was about to set free the  
Soldat and the rest of the team would be scraping his brains off the floor in a matter of minutes. Bruce had jetted back from his conference, and even Sam would have the privilege of witnessing it over the glorified Stark-Tech version of Skype.

  
“I have a lead.”

  
Everyone’s eyes snapped to Natasha.

  
She sat opposite Steve, sharp, unwavering eye-contact staring her subordinate down.

  
She wasn’t going to tell them.

  
Fuck that. Steve wasn’t her agent.

  
“Maybe now is a good time to tell Bucky Red Skull is back, Natasha.”

  
Wow. Okay. Steve thought to himself. You really did just outright say that. You couldn’t have fucked that up more if you’d tried.

  
Unsurprisingly Steve was met with silence.  
Bucky didn’t even seem to breathe.

  
\--

  
Steve swallowed harshly, trying to reduce the pounding in his ears and watery vision.

  
He heard Bucky’s hands slam down onto the table.

  
What the fuck was he meant to do?

  
He heard Tony mutter something, voice lilting up in a question, followed by what was presumably Bruce kicking him under the table.

  
The slight rattle in Steve’s chest started up when Bucky’s gaze slid predatorily from him to Natasha.

"What?" Was all he said.

"They're back. Zola too. Somehow resurrected." Nat stated, matter of fact.

  
“So, what? You were going to tell me when? Before or after they regained me as an Asset?”

  
“When you could keep a clear head.” Nat was gone, it was the Widow speaking now.

  
“Clear from what exactly? I didn’t realise you thought I was that fucking close to the Soldat again.”  
Bucky’s reply came even louder now, cold heat rising.

  
Clint broke out with unexpected vehemence,  
“Oh fuck off Barnes. She’s not talking about the Soldat, and you know it. She’s talking about _you. _”__

____

  
Bucky slammed his chair against the wall and stood, prompting everyone else at the table to follow suit.

  
Steve tried to swallow, guilt clogging up his airways more than asthma.

  
“I’m not some fragile red room trainee you piece of shit.” Bucky spat, “You knew too, Hawkeye…Sam,” He glared at the screen that held his wingman,

“If you so much as had an inkling, I’ll fucking  
kill you.”

  
He said it with such cold force Steve feared he meant it.

Bucky was completely closed off, isolated by terror that he’d have every ounce of autonomy taken from him again.

Steve knew it. They knew it. But Bucky was so angry it was hard to ignore the Winter  
Soldier simmering just below the surface.

  
All it would look like from his perspective was distrust. Distrust of his stability. Distrust of him. Distrust of his fucking loyalty. The idea that Bucky would believe the team thought he had some kind of lingering fealty to Hydra was enough to make Steve sick.

  
Tony jabbed a finger towards Bucky  
“Don’t. Don’t you dare fucking pull out on us Barnes. You’re a part of the team- you don’t get to play the alienated basket case just because Widow fucked up. Chill your fucking ego.”

  
“My God! You think this is about ‘my ego’? You think everything is about yelling the loudest, causing the most shit. You don’t trust me not to get on my knees for the next handler that comes along-”

  
Steve wanted to throw up, but Tony just cut right over Bucky,

  
“No. None of us think that for a second and you know it Barnes. We trust you. You’re on the team. We trust you’ve got a grip on your James McAvoy Split brain. But this? This information is a hell of bitch for anyone to swallow. Nat was right in not trusting you to flip. But my fucking God are you more than entitled to flip.”

  
The room fell silent again. Even Bucky stunned at Stark’s words.

  
Steve couldn’t help but feel pissed the blame was falling on Natasha’s shoulders. He tried to keep his voice quiet, but evidently, not enough as everyone but Bucky snapped to his attention,  
“We- I shouldn’t have kept it from you.”

  
He looked down at his feet.

  
Steve didn’t hear Bucky leave.

  
He hadn’t addressed Steve once. He hadn’t even looked at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun.
> 
> What a whoops.


	16. I thought about you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve continued to stare into the undeniably dull mountain scene of the Alps, before turning to stare through the window at the equally dull grey sky over Manhattan . He still hadn’t figured out how to open the window, the huge glass panels ostensibly seamless. So, he settled for the stuffy air from the past two weeks that only fed his headache. It was as if all the guilt that had built up since speaking to Bucky sat stale in there with him. Steve wondered whether he’d ever figure out how to open the window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOSShhh BoI. There’s a lot of arguing in this chapter, pre-warning. These guys are two absolute fire-crackers, there’s no way either of them would back down easily. I didn’t intend for it to get so heated but they’re both pissy okay? XD.  
> It took me a lot of attempts to write. I feel like none of it makes sense I've read it so many times, feel free to comment on it :3 Although, Please be nice to me. ~~I am very small and I have no money. So you can imagine the kind of stress that I am under~~.  
> y'all might notice as well there is now an extra chapter :D  
> -  
> I sincerely apologise I always get ‘breath’ and ‘breathe’ the wrong way around. How? I hear you ask. Is it not just another simple part of the English language? Well, I have no idea. It just keeps happening and ruining dramatic moments.  
> -  
> 

Steve rolled his shoulders and set the paint brush back down on his desk. Well, the desk in the spare room. No one had asked him to leave yet.

Rolling his shoulders, he stood, annoyed it was already four in the afternoon. He knew working on this commission was pointless, the deadline was long past, but the niggling neglect of his work was starting to grate on him. Unable to contact the unlucky woman who’d requested it, he couldn’t even rattle off a half-hearted Instagram apology without someone homing in on his sudden spike of internet activity and swooping him out of the stark tower.

He continued to stare into the undeniably dull mountain scene of the Alps, before turning to stare through the window at the equally dull grey sky over Manhattan. He still hadn’t figured out how to open the window, the huge glass panels ostensibly seamless. So, he settled for the stuffy air from the past two weeks that only fed his headache. It was as if all the guilt that had built up since speaking to Bucky sat stale in there with him. Steve wondered whether he’d ever figure out how to open the window.

He thought about looking for Bucky again.

But he knew it was in vain. If Bucky had wanted to talk to him in the past fortnight he would have. Bucky didn’t _want_ to be found.

Steve hazarded a guess there was no worry for Bucky’s physical safety. If he was completely off-map the others wouldn’t be so relaxed about the situation. That, and whenever Steve asked for his whereabouts the rest of the team simply coughed and avoided his eye contact.

Bucky was still living in the tower. Somewhere.

Steve wondered whether Bucky ever walked past his door, but too stealthily- or Steve was too fucking deaf- for him to be heard.

He wondered if Bucky _was_ doing that, whether he thought Steve was ignoring him.

Sighing, he picked up his phone from the desk, thumb hovering above Peggy’s contact. He pondered on how long it had been since they’d last spoken, and whether Peggy’s work ethic was entirely healthy. Scrolling through their last conversation and hitting a string of worn memories, he realised it had been too long.

Tony had assured him he was safe to message whilst using the Tower WiFi, but it wasn’t just that. Steve didn’t feel like he could, or even wanted to, unload the whole scenario on her. She was more than capable of handling it but knowing her she’d drop all her work just to come and see him. And he couldn’t have her caught up in it too, not Peggy. Besides, he was a big boy. He could handle this just like he handled everything else. And that would be that.

Steve stared at the now dark phone screen for probably longer than necessary.

He sat it back down, twizzling it around from one corner.

 

Steve had just lain down on the floor, call him an existentialist, whatever, when his stomach rumbled. What would Sarah Rogers say to you? He mused. Probably: Why haven’t you had lunch yet?

He adamantly refused to acknowledge that he had only consumed the deniably stagnant glass of water sitting on his nightstand for fear of bumping into Bucky- scratch that, anyone.

Steve debated on getting up to grab a snack.

Then proceeded to shuffle caterpillar-style across the floor to behind the bed and away from the door, pulling a cushion towards him to shove under his crooked back.

\-------------------------------

“What are you doing?”

Sam just stared at the mismatched socks sticking out from what was pretty much under the bed.

“Avoiding.” came a melancholy reply.

“Avoiding what?” Sam knew the answer, two weeks of reclusivity and Sam was essentially feeding Steve at this point.

“ _Everything.”_

“You can’t do that forever buddy.”

“I know I- Ow! What the fuck Wilson?”

Steve sat up indignantly, head peeking over the bed, rubbing the red patch where a cereal bar had smacked him straight in the face.

“Stopping you from withering away to a husk, is the fuck.” Sam deadpanned before lobbing a water bottle onto Steve’s bed.

“Give a guy some warning.” Steve grumbled, standing only to flop onto the mattress.

 

Sam liked to think he was a reasonable guy, but this whole scenario was grating on him, and these two idiots clearly needed a shove in the right direction. Best be blunt.

“Barnes can’t hold his moping in for shit.”

Steve’s head snapped upright.

“Did he talk about me?”

Sam scoffed and rolled his eyes at how much of a sap Steve Rogers of all people, turned into when it came to one James Buchanan Barnes.

“Not in so many words. But in between the murderous rage and the hunting for Hydra there is what could only be described as pining.”

“He hates me.”

“Yeah.”

Steve was going to get whiplash at this rate. He glared holes into Sam.

Sam simply rolled his eyes and made his way out of the room, but not before calling over his shoulder,

“As bewildering as it may seem to everyone in this household, talking actually helps. Idiots.”

 

It wasn’t until a few minutes later that Steve propped himself up on his elbows. Try as he might he couldn’t ignore the fact that Sam was right. But come on, this was Steve Rogers, and he wasn’t anything if not stubborn. Sure, he’d take Sam’s advice, just not in the way he meant it.

Steve slid off the bed- sue him, his idea was much more effort in practise than theory- and headed down to the gym.

\--------

Steve coughed awkwardly, toying with the sleeves of his t-shirt and feeling increasingly inadequate as Natasha pounded out the miles on a treadmill.

She knew he was there, of course she did, which made Steve scowl even harder when she continued to sprint into the immobile distance. He was almost tempted to hit the emergency stop button on the side of the machine, but his call for a death wish ended when embarrassment over the Bucky situation filtered out into annoyance.

Steve jolted out of his thoughts when Natasha stopped somewhat abruptly, for someone on a treadmill anyway. She wasn’t even out of breath, sheesh.

“What?” she stated, not cold, just neutral as ever. God, every little thing was pissing Steve off today.

There was an awkward pause as Steve just. didn’t. say. _anything._ And Nat raised an incredulous eyebrow.

 _Come on Rogers_ was the joint internal thought.

"I'msorryforthrowingyouunderthebus." Steve let out in one solid exhale.

"It was to be expected."

He wasn’t anticipating being levelled with that.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

 _Don’t be confrontational, don’t be confrontational,_ Steve implored to himself.

"It means that you never really agreed with me in the first place. I shouldn't have swayed you to what I thought was best."

"I'm not that easily manipulated, Nat."

Natasha didn't even flinch at the idea of it.

Steve soldiered on despite her sceptical gaze, "I was on the fence. There were so many ways it could go. I thought I was doing it to protect Bucky, but in all honesty maybe I just took the easy way out."

"Rogers, I have never known you once to take the easy way out. But I sure as shit have witnessed you over think just about everything."

Steve had to snort at that.

She was like Peggy 2.0.

Steve had a feeling they'd get on like a house on fire.

“Go overthink somewhere else.” Nat waved him out of the gym, “Shoo!”

That was about as close as an apology acceptance he was going to get.

\---------------

Peter had debated for a while on telling Steve he was Spiderman, but since the day he moved into the tower there was a weird tension hanging between everyone. It didn’t set his Spidey-sense off, but man was it awkward.

He’d worried it was his presence to begin with, but the more he listened (sue him he had super hearing! It wasn’t being nosy if it was… accidental) the more he heard snippets of heated conversation with one topic at the centre. The Winter Soldier.

Everyone was speaking hushed tones about Hydra. Sure, Peter had heard of them before, but not beyond his history classes and a few short-lived gangs that tried to re-claim the fascist name. He had a feeling their meagre time-span was something to do with Daredevil.

Not having the full picture was driving Peter crazy, but not as crazy as his involuntary patrol hiatus. Dodging his way out of the tower was an exhausting feat in itself. He couldn’t stop jigging around, alternating between time in the gym and tinkering in Tony’s workshop- the team was just as shocked as he was when Tony asked him to help out on his most recent experiment, except Bruce. Peter would even go as far to say the man seemed to expect it.

But right now, he was doing neither of those things. He was sitting on the common room kitchen counter top, kicking his heels back against the surface. Man, he had too much energy.

 

“The kid’s fifteen Natasha.”

Peter froze, leg hovering in mid-air, poised for the kick that would alert Tony and Natasha to his presence.

Clearly Natasha hadn’t deemed this worthy for comment as Tony’s frustrated sigh came somewhere from the balcony above before continuing,

“We can’t just keep him here forever, as much as I love having a pestering little creature buzzing around,” Peter internally fanboyed at the fondness in Tony’s voice, “the kid’s aunt must be going stir-crazy, there’s only so much you can put down to an internship. Rumlow didn’t even know about the kid.”

Natasha sighed, Peter had never heard the Black Widow sound tired before,

“Well if Rumlow didn’t connect Peter with Steve and the Avengers before, he does now.”

Rumlow must be the guy after Steve, Peter thought.

“Look, Tony, about Red Sk-”

Peter cursed his still-growing, overly-flailing limbs to Loki in that moment, when smoothly sliding to the floor somehow morphed into knocking over a bar stool and smashing a pepper grinder on to the floor.

“Pete!” Tony hollered over the banister. Peter pretended he didn’t see Natasha reach into her pocket for a fraction of a second before relaxing back into her usual stance.

“Uh…Hi Mister Stark!” Peter inwardly cursed his stuttering as Natasha eyed him suspiciously.

“Seeing as you’re a ball of energy,” Tony continued yelling instead of opting for the short walk down the stairs, “I have a job for you kiddo. Go and tell Stevie Wonder doctor Erskine from the hearing clinic is here.”

Suddenly focused on the task at hand, Peter’s thoughts on Hydra went out the window, as he hopped towards the elevator calling, “Sure thing Mister Stark!”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, “Why don’t you just ask F.R.I.D.A.Y to pass on a message?”

Tony shrugged, “He seems to like having a job to do.”

Rolling her eyes Natasha started towards where Peter had just disappeared to follow suit, “I have something I need to do. I’m taking Clint.”

“Always stealing Robin Hood when I need him for suit repairs.” Tony muttered as he slumped into an armchair.

\---------------

“Наташа, подожди!*”

Natasha groaned, glaring at the sky in frustration. She halted where she was, one foot on the helipad, the other on the whirring quinjet.

“This better be good James!” She hollered without so much as turning her head.

She could hear him gulp from a mile away.

Questioning every decision she’d ever made up until that point, she sighed and whirled round on Bucky.

“Do I look like I have time for this? And if you’re here to bitch at me about Steve again, move along buddy.”

“Oh, so now you’re on a side.” Bucky felt stupid as soon as the words left his mouth.

Natasha crossed her arms. “You can’t forgive me for not telling you about Schmidt then act petty about it, Barnes. You’ve just ruined any chance at being cool and collected in front of me ever again.”

“пошел на хуй**.”

Natasha shrugged as if to concede and turned to walk on to the quinjet.

Bucky held his ground for all of 3 seconds before following her on board and whining, “Come on Nat! I don’t know what to d-”

“Yes, you do.” She cut in, “Talk to him. Because if something happens to one of you and you never made up? That sure is going to suck for the other one."

"And you’re really that concerned for my welfare Natasha? No offence by my money is on the other guy tapping out first when it comes to the Winter Soldier."

"I’m not talking about something happening to you, although I’d watch your inflated ego. Have you met Steve? He can't walk 5 feet without getting his asthmatic ass in a fight with someone four times the size of him."

Bucky swallowed. Nat was right of course she was right. Right about this. And right about not trusting him not to flip when it came to Red Skull.

‘You can’t be trusted, even with your own brain. That’s why we take care of it for you.’ Her sickly-sweet voice startled Bucky as it suddenly cut through his mind, too soft hands running up and down his arms, along his jaw.

“Barnes?” Natasha snapped her fingers, jerking Bucky out of his head.

“Don’t listen to them.” Nat held his eye contact, as firm as her statement.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” he retorted, stalking his way off the jet and back into the building.

\-----

Bucky wasn’t in the right frame of mind at all and he knew it, but it was now or never so he continued to march across the common room to Steve’s room and opened the door.

“What the fu-” Steve started

Steve was sat on the floor in his boxers and a t-shirt (he always ran cold, why wasn’t he wearing more layers? Was he sick?) cutting up small squares of coloured card. What the fuck Rogers?

"Nat told me you wanted to talk." Bucky cursed at the lack of tact that left his mouth.

"What?" God Steve was so small, sitting on the carpet with that stupid cute-confused frown on his face.

"Don't look at me like that. She wanted to talk." Bucky bit out.

"So did I!" Suddenly Steve was scrambling upright, feet apart and ready for a fight.

"If I, quote un quote, 'flipped', she is much more capable to handle the situation than you. - And don't twist what I'm saying here." Bucky jabbed a finger towards Steve, 40’s Bucky internally shaking his head whilst the Soldat screamed that more force was necessary to get the point across.

Bucky had the shaking feeling that this was all going to escalate very quickly, and he knew he couldn’t stop it. The rage was turning white hot inside him in way he wasn’t quite in control of, upsetting the stomach of the small part of him that wanted it all to go away.

But it didn’t.

Steve merely crossed his arms and huffed, “What _are_ you saying here?” He looked down at his toes and it made Bucky want to put his fist through a wall.

“Fuck.” Not a good way to start Barnes. “You just- When—Why didn’t you tell me Steve!? Why didn’t you _just_ tell me?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did you not trust me?” Bucky knew he was hounding him with pointless questions, but admittedly he was trying to rile Steve up. He hated the way he just stood there, all small in this huge room with 0% of Steve’s personality. Next to no clothes on, punishing himself undoubtedly in that stupid martyr way of his, but with Goddamn fluffy slipper socks on for Christ sake as if to purposely push Bucky over the edge.

Steve shook his head.

“Did you think I was going to go running back-”

“Why do you keep saying that!?”

Bucky inhaled sharply. There he was, his Stevie, with fire in his eyes, whole body set with determination as he lifted his chin up towards Bucky.

“Because it’s tru-” he tried to fire back but Steve cut over him,

“Don’t say ‘Because it’s true’. You know I’d never think that so don’t try to paint me like the bad guy. You’ve got to know I did it because I thought that was what was best so why are you giving me so much shit for it Buck?”

Oh God, Steve had tears in his eyes now and that was so, _so_ much worse. It was as if they were cutting away at Bucky’s anger in huge swathes, till his heart was cut down too. God it was cliché and man had he fucked up. And yet, he carried on adding salt to the wound.

“Exactly! It’s _because_ you thought it was best! Because you thought I couldn’t handle it!”

“Look at you Buck! You couldn’t handle it! This is what Natasha was talking about!”

Bucky didn’t feel upset, or angry, or anything then. Someone had pulled the plug on his emotions, and any ounce of humanity flicked out like a light.

“No.” He took a step towards Steve, towering over him enough to make the blonde stumble back slightly, “Red Skull I could handle. You fucking me over is what I couldn’t handle.”

When he stepped back, he wasn’t surprised that his usual fear inducing authority was having the opposite effect. Steve was livid.

____

“Get. The. Fuck. Out.”

____

\--

____

“Take off in three, two-”

____

Clint coughed awkwardly prompting Natasha to pause her last call.

____

“Oh for Pete’s sake. Spit the fucking feathers out Clint.”

____

Clint tried to fake-casually lean on the dash, hand slipping causing him to gracelessly stumble upright.

____

“It’s… Dude… I think we should ask Barnes to come, really. I’d want to if I was him.”

____

Natasha groaned externally this time, showing her exasperation that no-one except Clint would ever see- if only to fuck with him when he tried to prove she had ‘real emotions’ to everyone else.

____

“Jesus, fucking… okay. Fine.”

____

She marched off the quinjet and onto the helipad, making her way—

____

Bucky barged past her, a cloud of uncontained fury before calling “Take off in 20 seconds.”

____

Natasha just stood and stared in the opposite direction for a good few of those seconds, debating the various ways she could kill Barnes and get the team to feel bad for her for it.

____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * "Natasha, Wait!”  
> ** “Fuck you.”
> 
> ~~update~~ I previously said the next chapter would be up by 4th December, unfortunately it's now not going up until the middle of the month!! See you guys soon!


	17. Not a perfect soldier, but a good man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “H- Hey Pete!” Steve looked petrified of something, not that Peter could ever guess what, he was still trying to get his head around crying Steve.
> 
> “Um… I don’t- Do you… Are you okay Steve?” Peter wanted to punch himself for the stupid question as soon as it left his mouth. Come on Parker.  
> Steve just coughed a little before giving a valiant smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's A LOT of action in this chapter!  
> There will be angst! But fluff times are a’ comin’, we will be back to Steve quacking at ducks eventually.
> 
> I kept a lot of the original dialogue with Erskine because I like it :3
> 
> Apologies also, it's been so long! Essays and research killing my writing vibe yadda yadda. But it's Christmas so I decided to cram this in as well as work! :D

Peter hopped awkwardly from foot to foot. If Mr. Barnes didn’t have Super Soldier senses Peter would have scuttled up onto the ceiling just to avoid being caught in the middle of such an awkward situation.

He hadn’t picked up on the start of the conversation, too preoccupied with hastily sliding back and forth along the corridor in slipper socks. He was torn between interrupting whatever conversation Steve and Mr. Barnes, who’d given him a curt nod as he’d marched past, were having, or ignoring the task Tony had given him. But the choice was made for him (part of Peter was relieved his mind could stop flitting like a yo-yo) when the argument reached its peak:

 _“Exactly! It’s_ because _you thought it was best! Because you thought I couldn’t handle it!”_

_“Look at you Buck! You couldn’t handle it! This is what Natasha was talking about!”_

When the yelling stopped abruptly and was replaced with cold, low voices. Peter scrunched his eyes shut, putting all his will power into closing his ears just as much. He shouldn’t’ve been listening to this- Aunt May would be frowning at him with her hands on her hips right now.

His heart leapt into his mouth when Mr. Barnes silently left the room and was at the elevator in a matter of seconds.

Peter’s chest was hammering so hard it’s a wonder Mr. Barnes didn’t hear him. Peter swallowed awkwardly, of course he’d heard Peter. He hadn’t acknowledged Peter though, so maybe he was off the hook?

He took a deep breath before knocking quietly and heading into Steve’s room, and then… stopped.

Steve scrambled up from where he’d sat scrunched up on the bed, snot and tears all streaming in one onto the pillow he was squeezing within an inch of its life.

“H- Hey Pete!” Steve looked petrified of something, not that Peter could ever guess what, he was still trying to get his head around crying Steve.

“Um… I don’t- Do you… Are you okay Steve?” Peter wanted to punch himself for the stupid question as soon as it left his mouth. Come on Parker.

Steve just coughed a little before giving a valiant smile.

Peter knew _that_ smile.

He’d given it to Tony, to Aunt May, to Ben, a thousand times over. When he needed to be strong, when he didn’t want to weigh people down with everything that was happening because they already had enough on their plate. In that moment Peter wondered whether they’d be able to handle it, whether they felt just like he did with Steve, that he didn’t care, that all he wanted to do was help…

“Come back in a bit, yeah Pete?” How did he not notice that Steve had crossed the room and was guiding him out of it?

He stood aimlessly in the corridor, arms dangling limply by his sides and trying to get his brain to function again.

Right. He had a message to pass on, and Steve might need his help after all.

 He shook his arms and forced himself to walk back to the doorway of Steve’s bedroom. He pretended not to notice Steve uselessly standing in the middle of the floor that was scattered with small squares of coloured paper.

He cleared his throat carefully, “Tony said that Doctor Erkstine is here.”

Steve merely said, “Who?”

“Doctor Erkstine,” Peter repeated, “From the Hearing Clinic.” He added when he realised Steve had heard him, he just didn’t know who it was.

Steve frowned slightly, “Listen, Pete, I’m so sorry about all this…”

Peter wondered whether he meant the argument or everything that had happened in the past couple of weeks. He didn’t mention Steve’s lack of response over the hearing clinic. Peter didn’t like doctors either.

His response came beautifully composed “Huh?”

“That you got dragged into all this mess because of me- you got kidnapped for Christ sake! All this stuff that’s happened-”

“It’s not your fault!” Peter cut in, cringing at the guilt that was rolling from Steve in waves, making his Spidey Sense do cartwheels in his stomach.

Steve raised an eyebrow as if to say, “how could it not be?”

Peter felt heinously bad. He’d never been so close to telling someone he was Spiderman before. He was Spiderman, and he got caught up in his own prerogative, it was his own fault because he thought he could take on anyone, that Spiderman was incapable of making mistakes. But he was Peter Parker, and Peter Parker could make one hell of a mistake.

So, he didn’t tell Steve. Even though every fibre of his arachnid being was telling him that now was the time.

“Everything alright Pete?”

Peter stared at the tear stained, strained smile Steve was giving him.

Nope. He popped the P in his head.

Peter gave him _that_ smile and said, “Yeah, I’m okay.”

\--

Steve swung from side to side in the wheelie chair trying not to look too irritated. His gaze was steadfastly fixed on an old eye test chart from the forties that he guessed was now just decoration. Either that or he had seriously misjudged Tony Stark.

He supposed being righteously pissed was better than bawling his eyes out over what had already happened. ‘No use crying over spilt milk’ his ma used to say.

It was all just so horrendously muddled up. Steve couldn’t seem to get a clear head. Despite his anxiety he was usually one for making his way through thoughts logically- at least when he took the time to do so and no-one was being a derogatory douche-bag in the general vicinity.

Steve cracked his knuckles in anticipation, legs still swinging the chair. He coughed a couple of times, completely unnecessary. It was more out of paranoia that he’d stubbornly hold in a cough when speaking to the doctor, until he triggered his own fucking asthma attack. Yes, he’s _that_ kind of awkward. It’s happened before.

His mind kept wandering back to Bucky and whatever it was they had. Or used to have. Steve wasn’t sure. What he was sure of was that Bucky had been a dick.

But so had he.

Steve lifted his gaze to the ceiling as he huffed in exasperation. Things always seemed to escalate around Steve very quickly. Not that he regretted that… He just wished he could reign it in when it came to hurting the people he lov-- _liked_.

Jesus, this was so stupid. Why did he tell Bucky to leave like that? And now he was on a plane to god knows where, and Steve half wondered whether he’d come back at all. Not that Steve was the only thing going for him here, but he was self-indulgent when it came to being dramatic.

Sure, he was annoyed Bucky had ignored him for what had felt like forever, but he was the most defensive man Steve had ever met. Unsurprising Steve supposed. He should have just _listened_ to him through all the growly bravado when he’d finally wanted to talk.

As soon as Bucky came back, he resolved, he would apologise. Not just for keeping Red Skull a secret, but for fucking up everything after that.

He tried to ignore the niggling voice that told him Bucky was more fragile that he appeared, that he should have left more room for understanding. What if Bucky didn’t come back at all? What if—

A man in round glasses and a lab coat added a superfluous knock on the door as he strode into the room. Looking up from his clip board he spoke,

“So, I hear you like avoiding doctors.”

Steve swallowed awkwardly, “Excuse Me?”

He wasn’t sure if he was more, or less grateful when the man finally looked up and reached out his hand, “Doctor Abraham Erskine. I represent the Brooklyn Hearing Centre.”

“Steve Rogers.”

Steve wondered why he told Erskine that when he obviously already knew, and was cringing  just enough to continue the conversation in hopes he’d forget about it, “So, where are you from?”

“Queens, 73rd Street.”

Oddly specific. Steve couldn’t help but be slightly weirded out by the guy.

“Where are _you_ from Mr. Rogers?”

Steve began really cringing now as Erskine rattled off a bunch of places Steve had driven out of the way for to effectively Grand-Theft-Medicine when he got desperate. Like _really_ desperate. The concern over the fact that Stark had all these details when he’d used a fake name was lost on him when Erskine continued, seemingly unfazed.

“So where is the little guy from _actually?”_

Steve couldn’t help but snort at the man’s sly smirk.

“Brooklyn.”

\-- 

Steve cursed as milk and a few stray Cheerios slopped over the edge of the bowl, splattering on the floor and soaking his newly-socked feet.

He went through the various pill bottles he'd already gained since being here and downed them between two goes. 

It was already 11am. Sam had left early as usual, and after a fitful night’s sleep Steve wasn’t up in time to say good morning. He was too tired to even feel bothered about being a dick for being too tired to care in the first place. Steve had resolutely ignored the obnoxiously loud clonking of the coffee machine from down the hall.

The rest of the team had left for various missions and workouts, and he was pretty sure Peter was up in the labs with Tony. So, Steve was left to wait and wonder about his second meeting with Erskine. He was glad it was in the afternoon. He couldn’t have all the questions of yesterday only to get up, admittedly slightly hungover, and have a hearing aid fitted, blood tests and god knows what else.

So he trudged over to the sofa, wrapped in a blanket and carrying what was left of his cereal. He could sleep off his problems. Peter and Tony’s jokey “Treat. Yo. Self.” echoing round in his head.

\-- 

Bucky frowned at his disassembled guns currently on the kitchen table of yet another Avengers safe-house. He sat contemplating how annoying Clint’s whistling was and tried to psycho-analyse why the fuck he acted the way he did yesterday. The Soldat normally extradited any emotion from his brain as soon as his subconscious decided it was attached to someone, sure, but seeing Steve sitting on that carpet, so small and stupidly cute having avoided him for so long pretty much short-circuited him. And the longer he’d left it, the harder it seemed to talk to Steve. All his fears were building up in his head more than they ought. He’d thought about bringing it up with Bruce or Natasha, but then remembered how concerned everyone seemed to be that the Winter Soldier was just waiting to pounce. He didn’t blame them. The harshness of past experiences was muddling his mind, he needed to stop listening to the handlers’ voices running through his head and regain control. Easier said than done.

Bucky huffed out a breath, aggravated he’d come up with so many excuses as to why he couldn’t talk to Steve. It wasn’t even Steve he was pissed at anymore. It was Hydra. It had always been Hydra. Why couldn’t he have told Steve he’d accepted his apologies days ago? Sure, Steve had been an asshole. But so had he.

They’d been practically domestic before - so fucking cosy and relaxed Bucky wondered if anyone would believe he was the Winter Soldier if they’d seen him. He wanted to wake up to a softly snoring Steve, an annoyingly cheery Sam in the kitchen, intuitively blockading Clint from punching him before he got his coffee. He wanted that rare, easy atmosphere where everyone in the tower felt okay for once.

Bucky supposed he deserved the secrecy and that Steve was right. Maybe he couldn’t handle _anything._ Brandishing anger as his cover.

“Sooo… You gonna put those back together? Or just knock everyone down with that murder-strut of yours?” Clint had _finally_ stopped whistling and gestured loosely to the weaponry on the table.

“He better fucking not.” Natasha called from where she sat comfortably in an armchair, legs slung over one armrest.

Bucky stuck his butt out and wiggled his hips in a way Nat called seductive and he called cringey.

“Oh! Barnes, you’re back! Tell Lames Broodcanan Lover-boy he’s mean and I don’t like him.” Clint said, not bothering to hide his look of glee.

A look of something evil flashed through Natasha’s eyes, before she added, “Trust me, if you knew how much of a moaner happy Bucky is you’d wish for Brooding to come back.”

Bucky merely turned on the spot and strode to the sink to hide any trace of emotion she could use against him in future scenarios.

Clint looked mortified, disgusted, and somehow delighted all at once.

The jovial air came crashing to a halt when Natasha’s phone bleeped.

“Time to go. Let’s see what Red Skull wants, then we can see if it correlates to that file.”

“Good.” Clint grumbled, “I’ve been dying to see what shits in there.”

 -

Bucky wasn’t surprised Natasha had waited till they were together, but away from the Tower, to look at the file. The three of them had been prepping too much for this infiltration last night to be distracted by Hydra’s next possible serum candidate. What better time to look at it then when they had tracked and taken the compound supposedly testing a new form of the serum.

Hoping against hope this wouldn’t be another dead-end, Bucky pushed open the lab door with bated breath.

 The three scruffy looking scientists in dirty lab coats let out various screeches as in stormed a blood-covered Winter Soldier.

“I can’t say whether I’m pleased or disappointed there aren’t any genetically engineered monsters in here.” Ah, good old Clint always new how to make a situation worse, as one of the scientists starting pissing everywhere.

“Ha. Ha.” Bucky poked Clint's shoulder with as much sarcasm as he could manage, internally sighing at the confusion on their hostages’ faces.

“James,” Natasha called over from some blue glowing test tubes whilst Clint kept his bow trained on the trembling researchers.

Bucky couldn’t help but stare at the blood samples scattered around and the horrendous photographs of test subjects. The memories made his stomach lurch and the clamouring in his head grow louder.

“-I don’t know why they thought that would work with an entirely different subject. They’re clearly runn- James.” She called Bucky back to attention sharply, “They’ve clearly reached some kind of an impasse, but have some semblance of a formula. They’re going to go for whoever the real subject is.”

Bucky knew what she expected him to do so he pulled out the file from his jacket and placed it on the desk covered in medical mumbo-jumbo. He opened the file.

**Project Rebirth**

_Subject:_ _Steven Grant Rogers._

 

 

Bucky stared.

Natasha didn’t move an inch.

They both just continued to stare at the tentacled skull emblazoned across the paper.

And Steve’s name.

That was Steve’s name, but how could this make any sense?

Bucky’s mind started to wander apart. He started when Natasha’s hands started rushing through the pages, eyes bouncing between them, brain trying to take in this new information.

Bucky made a weird huck noise at the back of his throat and attempted to clear his voice, “What…What?” He eventually gave up and gestured at the file with extensive notes strewn merrily across it, then at the blue test tubes with metal clasps choked around them.

The youngest scientist decided to speak up then, fuck knows why, turned his lips down and shrugged, “Crazy. I don’t know why they haven’t fucked him already, an under-average guy, nothing going for ‘im.”

He was dead in less than a second, Bucky hadn’t even moved, and Clint had already re-strung another arrow.

Bucky looked at Natasha like he was watching them from above, her still scrambling through the files.

“There. 1996. Sarah Rogers (Mother) took subject, at seven years of age, to Dayton Walk-In Clinic Ohio, diagnosis Scarlet Fever. First Hydra discovery and blood samples by Doctor Van Cooper.”

Bucky didn’t know what he was supposed to say but all that came out was, “What, so this was all some big coincidence? Or does Hydra have a doctor posted in every fucking tiny surgery on the planet?”

He supposed shock is what Hydra were going for, and it was certainly a good strategy. Make them think Natasha and Bucky were the original targets when those goons tried to grab Steve. That probably wasn’t even a real attempt. A red herring.

“Why not take him then?” Bucky flinched at how detached his voice was becoming.

Natasha shrugged and Bucky found it hard to be angry at her seeming indifferent when he was doing exactly the same, “Too young? There’s no way his body could take the serum. Hell, they’ve documented pretty much every hospital check-in Steve has had since, even under different names.”

“They were monitoring him…” Bucky realised with cold dread, “Waiting for him to get stronger, for him to get access to help…” Their eyes met with the same epiphany.

“Fuck.” Bucky’s voice came out strangled, “They didn’t want to capture Steve that night. They wanted us to take him in. To give him the help he needed so they could take him when he was better.”

Clint finally joined into the fray, “Where is Steve now.”

“Fuck.” All they exclaimed simultaneously.

 

Bucky couldn’t breathe. The last things he’d said to Steve were so awful, so angry and now he wasn’t going to get to him in time. None of them were. Steve would be Hydra’s and Bucky would go after him. He would. He would do it. He said he’d never go back, but if it meant he had to get Steve out, if Steve even remembered him-

“Barnes! Soldat!” Suddenly Bucky was back in his body and Nat was digging her fingernails into his biceps.

Bucky walked the line between disassociation and reality as he looked round the lab.

“Where’s Clint?” He rasped.

Natasha was gone, and the Black Widow was staring up at him. “Hawkeye has taken the Hydra Scientists to the quinjet and is readying for take-off. Your mission is to collect as much intel from this room as possible.”

“What are you going to do-”

“Contacting the Tony and the others.”

All his emotions seemed to evaporate, drying up and exhuming from his body.

“You were right.” Bucky turned to Natasha, confusion and fear clear on her face for a fraction of a second. “About Steve not being able to walk five feet without walking into trouble.”

Natasha didn’t say anything, just looked at him before turning away to pull her phone out.

\-- 

"May I?"

"Yeah."

"You’re shaking."

"I got the jitters, I guess."

"Me, too."

Steve couldn’t help but laugh at the doctor’s reply, he seemed to be an easy man. Steve didn’t think he would ever have been friends with Erskine, but there was a mutual respect there.

"Can I ask you a question?" Steve began, trying to distract himself from the feeling of blood flowing out of his arm, through the needle, and into the sample tube.

"Just one?" Erskine humoured him.

"Where is your accent from?”

“From Augsburg. My city. I moved here because… I struggled. I excelled in my field- I’m from a biology background you see, genetic engineering. But being great at what you do draws attention. A rich and powerful man comes along with the marching and the big show and the parties and the...and the...And he...he hears of me, my work and he finds me. And he says "You." He says "You will make us strong." Well, I am not interested. So he sends the head of his research division. A brilliant scientist by the name of Johann Schmidt. He has a passion for occult power and Teutonic myth. He has become convinced that there is a great power hidden in the earth, left here by the Gods, waiting to be seized by a superior man. So when he hears about my formula and what it can do, he cannot resist. Schmidt must become that superior man."

Steve’s mind completely froze after hearing the name of Schmidt.

Erskine moved to switch out the vials, but Steve stopped him, breathing harshly through his nose.

“Wait.”

The older man did as he was asked and slowly removed the needle.

"Do you work for Hydra?” Steve breathed, barely a whispered. He was too bewildered to be angry.

Erskine’s eyes lit up with panic, but rather than answering the question, he rushed on frantically,

"I told them the serum was not ready, to stall them. But more important, you must remember this Steven. The serum amplifies everything that is inside. So, good becomes great. Bad becomes worse. This is why you were chosen. Because a strong man, who has known power all his life, will lose respect for that power. But a weak man knows the value of strength, and knows compassion."

Steve thought for a second that it would have been a compliment, if not completely, terrifyingly absurd.

Suddenly Erskine was rushing from the room.

Steve called out, skidding out of the door and into the medical wing corridor of the tower,

“Wait! Wait! What do you mean I was chosen!?” he couldn’t help the fear rising in his voice.

Steve had nearly caught up with the man just before the stairs when Tony seemingly appeared from nowhere.

It was a blur.

Steve heard a gun shot followed by screams and the thud of Erskine’s body hitting the floor. Tony curled Steve protectively into his left side before firing a repulsor at a suited man Steve hadn’t even noticed.

The assassin didn’t even try to defend himself against Iron Man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hippy Chrysmas.  
> It's 3am, I'm going mental at this point.
> 
> The next chapter should be up around 10th January 
> 
> Side note: Not gonna lie, I'm slightly concerned about article 13. And just in case something happens to Europe's access to ao3 (not saying it will i'm just paranoid!) feel free to leave a tumblr/email in the comments I can send chapter updates just in case, touch wood, this ship goes down before I finish posting.  
> I should go now as my vision is going green and flashy.


End file.
